


The Physics Of Falling (In Love)

by potatojuiceplease



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Loki (Marvel), Alternate Universe - Real World, Angst and Feels, Anxiety Disorder, Blood and Violence, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky ain't taking anyone's shit and wants Steve back, Businessmen, Depression, Friends to Lovers, Gun Violence, Hydra (Marvel), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kidnapping, Loki & Tony Stark Friendship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Most of the times I just write without any planification, Secret Organizations, Separation Anxiety, Separations, So yeah expect a crazy weird plot, Spy Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Unsurprisingly enough, You will want a Heimdall for your own, netflix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-05-29 04:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 78,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15064937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potatojuiceplease/pseuds/potatojuiceplease
Summary: Since he was adopted as a child by the powerful businessman Odin Allföðr, Loki has had an unasked-for lot on his plate. Always average, always second-best to his brother, always struggling to be what he can only guess the rest of the world wants him to be, Loki knows there are two things that can never happen to him: passing Advanced Placement Physics C, and finding someone besides Heimdall who understands how it feels to be him. But there is something Loki wasn't counting on, and that something goes by the name of Anthony Stark.





	1. Gravitational Forces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT about the story
> 
> This fanfiction can be divided into three main parts, them being:
> 
> Chapters 1-3: Tony and Loki's relationship builds up.  
> Chapters 4-7: Loki adjusts to his legacy.  
> Chapters 8-18: the aCTUAL THING YES, disaster strikes severely and things go crazy.
> 
> When I first started writing what has become TPOF(IL), it was a Highschool AU OS for a friend of mine who is seriously Frostiron-invested, and chapters 2 and 3 were kind of... Sequels? Idk. Then I started posting it here and, being the sucker I am for longer, carefully plotted stories, I went with chapters 4 to 7, although I didn't know where they were taking me until I started writing chapter 8. From there the story quickly turned into what it is for the remaining 10 chapters, something darker than Loki trying to pass Physics, but far more enjoyable for me as a writer. So you can choose to stop at chapter 3 and pretend they get their happily ever after, or at chapter 7 and pretend they get to make things work. But I strongly recommend you read the whole thing and suffer with me, because things get kinda hardcore but hell yeah, chapter 16 is worth the angst.
> 
> Anyway, no matter how far you read, hope you like it <3

Astrophysicist Bruce Banner pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Alright, alright. I _am_ trying, and I know you _are_ trying, but we have already covered this type of problem three times. You isolate the sine and substitute in the other equation, then operate and solve the initial speed. Only then you can find the angle. It’s not difficult at all.”

Self-conscious, Loki retouched the scheme he had drawn to represent the several forces involved in throwing a stone. Some lines had been drawn so many times that the paper was torn here and there. His future looked darker than the black ink of his pen, which he could hopefully use to slit his throat open if he broke it well enough. Physics and Math had never been his forte, but this year was being an utter nightmare.

"What about your brother, Thor? Maybe he's a better teacher than me. Don’t take me wrong, but I’m used to working with particles and energy, more than explaining them."

Loki sank a little more in his chair.

"Thor didn't do this--Physics, Maths. He went straight for Macroeconomics, Fundamentals in Business, that kind of stuff.”

 Sighing, Banner tapped his temple with a finger and nodded.

"Right. Odin's passing on the family business to him, right? Same with Anthony Stark. Three years from now, he'll be the head of Stark Industries. Which is why I was supposed to be here—to teach Anthony some new discoveries we have made back in the Fermilab. When Howard said he would be here in a minute and that maybe I could help out a friend of his’ son while I waited, I didn’t know he meant going through twelfth grade Physics." Then he seemed to realise that his complaint had been pretty impolite and lowered his eyes before saying, “Sorry, Loki. I know this stuff can be hell. But once you manage to understand what’s going on, take it from me, everything flows. If only I could somehow show you the way I show Anthony.”

 And he did try to show him for three months straight, but it always failed to work out. As Odin had this terrible habit of using his house for meetings and business, which ended up being quite noisy, he had contacted lifelong best friend Howard Stark and asked if he could ask doctor Banner to help Loki out a little _chez_ the Starks?, because Banner was such a renowned astrophysicist and surely he could make Loki see the light in a matter of minutes. To which Howard answered, sure, why not?, Banner has to come anyway and Tony’s so smart, he won’t be spending the whole afternoon explaining whatever’s up to him, so of course he would ask Brucey to please do him a favour and teach Loki as well.

 All in all, it resulted in both Loki and Banner feeling unhappy, miserable, and cheated on. Loki had never asked for a renowned astrophysicist as a particular teacher. Banner had never asked for a repeater’s phobia to Physics to fill his afternoons with. But Odin and Howard couldn’t care less, so now Loki felt like a dumb kid, and Banner felt frustrated. The only one who was moreless happy, presumably, was Anthony Stark.

 Loki had never seen Anthony Stark, for the Stark Manor was big enough for them to never have met in a whole three months. From Odin’s words, Stark Junior was a prodigy, having gotten three PhDs at only seventeen and currently busy designing gadgets for his father's tech labs. Eighteen and unable to graduate from high school, Loki had started to hate him a little. Every now and then, when he was feeling particularly unhappy, he solaced himself picturing Tony as a puffy-cheeked, podgy dwarf with a severe acne problem, crooked teeth and a galloping short-sightedness. Just to feel a little better.

 "Jeez, Banner we've gone through this a lot too--Tony. Name's Tony. 'Anthony' is for old geezers and snobs. Hopefully you haven’t finished up my Cherry Cokes."

 Behind Loki, someone opened the Starks' colossal fridge, and from the delighted ‘Aha!’, presumably found a can of Cherry Coke. Turning around to look at him made Loki feel a lot worse. Not only were the acne and the hamsterish cheeks fictional, but Howard Stark’s kid had stunning looks as well, with wavy dark hair and mischievous eyes. When he spotted Loki and smiled, amused, he showed a perfect line of perfect teeth a perfect shade of white.

 "Hey, kid. How you doing?"

 "Not a kid," Banner said. "He's a year older than you, Anthony. And he's doing terribly bad."

 "Uh." Tony Stark sipped his Cherry Coke and spun around the chair next to Loki's, leaning over the back on which he rested both arms.. His legs were crossed in front of him. "College stuff?"

 "High school. Physics," admitted Loki through gritted teeth.

 "Doing his senior year again." Banner opened his hands, patting the mess of used papers in front of him. "Been here every Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday for the last three months, actually, to work on Maths and Physics. Come on, Anthony, I believe your father told you."

 "Mmmh."

 Lips tight, Loki rubbed the back of his left hand with his right thumb.

 "Kinematics?" Anthony leaned towards the table, to his left, to peek at Loki's problems. "Should be easy peasy." Sip. Can on Loki's notebook. " Alright, it _is_ easy peasy. Banner, the pen—Here, see? Speed is a vector here, which means if you draw this, you represent it as an arrow with a starting point that's heading somewhere. Vectors, you know, are kinda tricky, but for you and me they're just segments—lines—orientated in space. And the forces that have or are exerted in a direction are vectorial for that reason, 'cause they are, uh, orientated towards somewhere. Going somewhere, if you like it better. Gravity downwards, speed here diagonally to the right, makes sense?"

Actually, it did. Loki stared at Tony's quick sketch of some vectors and nodded slowly.

 "Great. Well, this fella speed here is a cheeky bastard, 'cause it isn't horizontal nor vertical—the... golf ball?, what?, whatever—it describes a parable, which means it took off with a certain angle. It’s neither rolling nor going up like a rocket, it’s doing kind of both and none. Just give it a thought, it makes sense, because it moves both up and then down, and forwards. And if you remember how we draw the speed... Here, the arrow from the starting point..., then you can see it has an angle too..., like this, more or less."

 Little by little, Tony guided Loki through the problem until it was solved.

 "...And the ball falls a hundred and three point seventy one metres away from the starting point. Nice swing, uh?"

 "Um, yes." Loki read the calculations Tony had made again, unable to believe that he understood.

 Because he _did_. Already the feeling was fading, but while listening to Tony as he solved the golf problem it had been as if something clicked, as if the formulae were toys he could play with. Here I'm missing the initial height, so I take this and substitute that in this other formula then I go back and cha-ching, solved.

 "You think you can do it alone now?" When Loki shyly shook his head, he didn't sigh like Banner usually did. Instead he turned to throw the empty can of Coke to—at—the bin and faced Loki again with a small smile. "Then I'll help a little."

 Said Banner, who had been staring at the boys wide-eyed, cleared his throat and rose from the table.

 "Anthony, how did..." He arched both eyebrows, looking at the wasted piled atop the table. “They should be discussing the dates for DUNE at the Fermilab, so excuse me, but I need to be on the phone. Good luck, Loki. Really, I hope he can help you more than I did."

 When he was gone, Tony snickered. "Astrophysicist or not, I bet Banner’s macho pride is a little hurt right now. Poor man really tried, so at least we’ll give him that much.” Then he pursed his lips. “Um, Lokes. Would you mind if I brought a little somethin' I'm working on? Write down the data of whatever problem you want to work on while I'm downstairs."

 Loki had mistaken the time to reach the maximum height for the time to fall back to the floor, and had not decomposed the speed correctly. Setting the little robo-dinosaur and the tool box on the table, Tony pointed out the mistakes and helped him understand why he had gone wrong. Then he began fussing with screwdrivers and copper wires while keeping an eye on Loki, and asked him why had he done what he had done when he got stuck.

 Then the time came for Loki to leave, and Tony walked him to the door. Parked in the middle of the Stark Manor front lane's roundabout, Thor patted the claxon of his old Chevy twice, and Tony patted Loki's shoulder twice.

 "Nice to meet you," he said simply. "See you tomorrow." He leaned against the doorway and watched Loki rush downstairs towards his brother's battered crossover.

 When Loki opened the door to slither in, Thor was wearing a strange face. "Wasn't that Anthony Stark? What was he doing with you?"

 "He likes 'Tony' better," said Loki instantly. "And he has, uh, helped me with Physics."

 "Stark?" Thor snorted as he manoeuvred down the sandy lane, the ground beneath the tyres grinding. "What the heck."

 "Why? He's a good teacher. I understood for the first time in my life."

 Speeding down the road, Thor let out a short bark of laughter. "Stark can be many things, but not the helping type."

 Loki stared at the four solved problems he held in his hands, written in both his own thin, straight handwriting and Tony's messy, inclined one, and didn't say anything.

* * *

 

On Wednesday, the Starks' butler opened the door. Tony shouted his greetings and for Loki to come to the kitchen.

On Friday, it was Tony who opened the door.

* * *

Slow and steady, Loki's marks began to rise together with the amount of time he spent with Tony Stark.

 At first they only talked about Loki's nulity when it came to anything numbers were involved in, but then Tony started asking about Loki's day, and likings, and opinions. Either out of true interest or out of pure boredom, Loki couldn’t tell, but still, he answered. And he asked about Tony's day, and likings, and opinions. And Tony answered. Thor remained sceptical, but Loki felt really comfortable with the heir to the Stark Industries. Tony was smart—not only a smartass, which he also was sometimes—, cunning, funny, patient, and had a delightful taste in memes. On the third week, he had slipped a Post-It with his phone number and a ' **;)** ' among Loki's notes. The GIFs, pictures, voice notes and conspiracy theories hadn't stopped coming ever since.

Even though Tony was younger than Loki—sixteen months, seven days and half an hour younger, to be precise—, Loki didn't feel like he was dealing with an immature loaded kid. Instead he loved every message Tony—StarkStar on Twitter, to his amusement—sent him, and often found himself wondering what Tony would think about this, or say about that, or snap at whatever. Actually, he tried not to think about the fact that he often found himself wondering what Tony would think about _him_ , and whether he missed him too, and how it would feel to hold his hand. But failed.

Sometimes Tony wrapped said hand around Loki's to make him write a formula or draw an exponential function correctly. Some others their legs touched and Tony didn't pull away. Daily on Loki's phone were funny Tumblr pics, clever puns, and cute, supportive texts. In Loki's dreams, the boy appeared more often than not. Loki began to go to sleep hoping to see him. And he smiled. Smiled a lot.

"Why are you so happy?" Thor asked one day. Stark Junior’s face popped up in Loki's mind, and he pressed his lips together to conceal the sigh and the massive smile.

"I did well today in my Biology test."

Tony had begun to pick him up from school a few weeks ago, so this was the first time Loki talked to an Odinson since last night at dinner. As Loki and Tony now studied together—well, Loki studied and Tony half paid attention, half played around with his prototypes and drones—every day except for Mondays and Sundays, his family had somehow become secondary in his life.

"Good. Sure." Thor tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, and didn't say anything else.

* * *

With the end of the year came the finals, and also the certainty that he was a little hopelessly in love with his private tutor. When Tony drove him to high school and gave him a 'good-luck' hug, Loki felt something in his lips which he recognised after a second as the desire—urge—to kiss Tony. Stiffening, Loki muttered a goodbye and clumsily got out, turning on his heels quickly so that his pale cheeks wouldn't give away the great shame he was feeling. He could have sworn Tony had noticed the violent blush, but if he had, he never brought it up.

Despite the pit of scorpions in Loki’s stomach, the exam was dead easy. Tony and he had gone over those kind of problems a thousand times, and some were even from the book. He had done them so many times, he knew that his numbers were right. He even knew that the comma in this number had been misplaced, thus making it impossible to get a result that made sense. Some of his teary-eyes classmates gave him a thumbs-up when he pointed this up to the teacher, and he stared down at his exam and chewed on his lower lip, curved into a shy smile. That wrong mass has been the first time he had kind of outsmarted Tony, who couldn't understand why the results were a negative square root. Watching him scream at a piece of paper had been quite funny.

He turned in his exam feeling like a victor. Now he only had to wait for the marks, which would be pinned to the noticeboard on Friday so that those who failed could have the whole weekend to study for the remedials next Thursday. Today was Wednesday. Two days before finding out whether Tony's lessons had turned him into the Avatar of Physics or not. But he was yet to take his Trigonometry, Biology, and Literature and Composition finals, so he was going to be busy enough not to obsess over whether he would pass much.

"How did it go?" Tony asked as Loki got inside the car. A few grateful classmates waved at Loki, and he cheerfully returned the gesture. "Whoa. Going social, aren't we?"

"Remember the carrot?" Tony hated the problem with the silly typo almost as much as carrots. "Well, it was in our exam, and still wrong. Many looked like they might jump through the window any moment."

"Almighty Saviour." Tony grinned as he shifted on his seat to reverse the car. "And French? Wait, no, you haven't told me how Physics was yet."

"Physics was really easy," Loki answered. "We have done most of the problems, you and I, and the ones we have not were nothing to write home about. French was fine as well— _c'était un peu plus difficile que la physique, mais pas trop problématique. Donc, pas du stress_."

Tony took his eyes off the road for a second and beamed at him not only with his mouth, but with his whole body. "That's my Lokes. Never knew French sounded so hot."

The same tickling sensation from the morning numbed Loki's lips, and he looked away. Watching that grin endangered his sanity.

"Can't wait for your marks," Tony said after an awkward moment in complete silence. "Heck, I'm more excited than you are. Let's get mathematical today—I want you to get all straight A's."

"Wait, there's Biology too—"

"What are Archaebacteria?"

"Ancient prokaryotic microorganisms older and more primitive than bacteria, which are usually found in extreme environments similar to those in which they developed—places with high temperatures like geysers, extremely salty waters and such. There are two types, Euryarchaeota and Crenarchaeota."

"See? No need to do more of that boring stuff today, mister Advanced Placement Biology Whizz Kid."

Loki felt known, and he liked it.

"Okay, Lord Of All Technology and Calculations. Trigonometry today, then."

Tony elbowed him playfully, and smiled.

"Your wish is my command."

* * *

The crowd was beginning to loosen, and Loki was finally able to make his way to the Physics exam marks after ten minutes of anguished waiting and mentally calling for dishonour on the people in front of him's cows.

"About time," grunted Tony behind him. Ten minutes of being asked for autographs, selfies and his phone number—and more biological, less innocent things—had left him looking like he might burn down the high school . Seeing him surrounded by the rest of the mortals made Loki realise how astonishingly handsome he looked in a new way, the _he-can-have-anyone-he-wants_ way. And that felt like a stab right through the chest, so he turned and focused on the mark.

He searched for his biological mother's surname—which he liked better than Odinson, even if he had hated it as a child, because it allowed him to be someone else besides Thor Odinson's adopted little brother for some time before people saw the Chevy waiting for him—, running the finger down the list as he read in silence. Then he found it and took a deep breath, insecure all of a sudden. He slid the finger to his right.

 

 **Laufeyson, Loki** **A+** **With distinction**

 

Frozen, he simply stared and stared and stared.

"I passed," he whispered, unable to believe his eyes. A hand on his shoulder—Tony's. A faint smell like Axe, cookies, and car oil. "I passed."

Tony leaned on him as he bent forward to check the list. "Holy Godforsaken Heavens above, Lokes," he breathed. "A damned A+. You were hopeless a few months ago and now you got a friggin’ A+." Then he smiled, mouth wide open and eyes still on the paper. "I'm awesome."

"Tony, I passed!" Loki felt it sink in as an unknown warmth bloomed all throughout his body, cheeks and stomach, setting them ablaze. He ran his hands up his face and through his hair, intoxicated with victory and euphoria. "I did it! I passed!"

"Idiot, you didn't just pass, but you also made no mistakes!" Tony tapped a finger on _With distinction_. "Your exam was flawless!"

Emotion tickled inside Loki's body and made all his nervous endings sparkle, and then suddenly his arms were tight around Tony's waist and he was thanking him, and Tony was patting his back awkwardly, and Loki's mouth was against Tony's and felt so hot he might melt, and Tony's lips were so soft despite his terrible habit of chewing on them until they bled, and Loki had been starving for him so long, and he opened his mouth and demanded more, and then he realised that he had _kissed Tony Stark_ in front of everyone and pulled away, and good Lord _he was so_ **_ashamed_ **.

"I—I—Sorry," he blurted before running away.

He was going to lose Tony, and maybe even cause him trouble in the business world when he inherited Stark Industries because who would take him seriously when he was snogging high school boys?, and Loki had ruined their friendship, and not even staying friendzoned and watching as Tony dated girls, got married and built a family would have hurt this much, and he was an idiot, such a damned idiot. And the tears ran steaming hot down his cheeks as he exited the building, and it was packed outside because it was break time, and the sun shone so blindingly, and someone was grabbing his wrist and pulling him close and then—Lips on his, hungry at first then sweet and caring and so electric and exciting all the while. He felt better for a moment.

Then—they smell faintly like Axe, cookies and car oil.

"How rude of you, Lokes," panted Tony Stark. "Am I such a terrible kisser that you ran away? The interruption was annoying."

Tony's hands were cupped around Loki's cheeks, and wiped his eyes with both thumbs.

"But I—you—me—" Loki stuttered.

"But _I_ want _you_ to stay with _me_ ," Tony said simply. "Jeez, your English marks are gonna be shit, Lokes—we'll have to work on that."

"You want... But you're just too much for me, and I'm nothing—a nobody, a John Doe." Loki sniffed. "I don't understand what you possibly see in me."

"Okay, your self-esteem is shit too. Guess we'll need many, many more lessons—my calculations are, like, around a whole life of lessons."

Around them had gathered every student in the state—even some teachers were staring. Loki noticed their baffled glances and tossed, as if to pull away from Tony's calloused, warm hands, but Tony shook his head and kicked his foot slightly.

"Class is not dismissed yet," he said, and with mischievous eyes he pulled Loki in for another kiss.


	2. Electrostatic Attraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's do a little angst, here—just a little, yes?

The fact that Tony looked dizzyingly stunning even as he jumped off the bus and nearly tripped wasn't fair. As he stumbled to his feet, stomping forwards for dear balance, Loki felt overwhelmingly conscious. Of the loose, old hoodie and dirty Converses he had thrown on after an hour of staring at his wardrobe, full of posh suits and shiny moccasins for his father and brother's events and formal parties. Also of the bags under his eyes after pulling an all-nighter to prepare an exam. Also of the battered backpack hanging from his right shoulder. But what he was most aware of were Tony's flawless, fitting jeans and black T-shirt, and Tony's flawless, perfect face, and Tony's flawless, casual shoulder strap. And Tony's smile as he opened his arms for Loki to jump in.

It was not that he didn't always notice Tony's breathtaking self. But he could practically hear the thoughts of those staring at them—From envy to surprise to disgust. From a simple _Ew_ to a more refined _What's the hot chick over there doing with such a loser?  
_

Dating Tony Stark was the most wonderful of all miracles, but it got extremely stressful sometimes. Many times, in fact. More than he should ever admit.

"I missed you," whispered Tony, his lips in Loki's ear and then against Loki's forehead. "A lot. Damn them business associates. How was the exam?"

"Good." Loki closed his eyes and inhaled Tony's familiar scent of Axe, cookies and car oil. Eyes still closed, he tried to wrap them around him, so that they would warm him and block the rest of the world. "You would have found it boring."

"Nothing that has to do with you can ever be boring."

"Would you rather I started with Pavlov's dog experiment, or may I go straight to the point and explain how respondent conditioning—"

Breaking the tight embrace, Tony smirked and rolled his eyes, and slipped his hand inside Loki's. "Okay, nothing but creepy biology stuff that you'll use to read and control my mind. And now come on, I'm starving."

* * *

 

Unsurprisingly enough, Tony strode towards the frozen yoghourt store in the heart of the open-air mall, which was beginning to get full. Loki hated going to crowded places. Or rather, he dreaded it. This wasn't promising. But come on, Loki, stop ruining the afternoon, will you?, so he didn't say anything and let Tony lead the race to the queue.

While he waited and stared at the variety of toppings as if he weren't going to ask for everything that had to do with chocolate, Loki looked for a table. Eye-measuring the queue, where Tony would be spending ten minutes at the very least, Loki fumbled inside his backpack for a pen and began doodling on the napkins. Luckily the serviette holding was full, because for some reason today he couldn't go further than five lines without ripping the paper apart.

Around him the chattering and overall noise were loud enough to make him pull out his phone as well. He disliked using it for anything different from talking with Tony, and absolutely loathed touching it, even by accident, when they were hanging out. Still, he plugged the small terminal of the wireless headphones Tony had given him the day he applied for college, and let some Bastille play. _Pompeii_ made it all a little better.

As the playlist jumped from Bastille to The Fray—whatever they were doing there?, but still he liked them enough to deal with _Ungodly Hour—_ , he lost track of time. And he almost felt good.

"Watching you draw kittens is lovely, and you know I'm not a kitten kind of guy." Tony sat in front of him, pushing a medium-sized yoghourt doused in black chocolate and strawberries towards Loki.

"No. I recall you are more a bionic-T-Rex-prototype kind of guy." Loki smiled shyly as he took the spoon Tony offered him and Tony's fingers caressed his. "Thank you."

"Don't just yet." Wearing a suspicious poker face, Tony suddenly darted forwards and stole a spoonful of Loki's yoghourt. "I don't work for free," he added, sounding twangy and pleased with himself.

"Said mister Private Tutor For Free." Loki realised he could still hear _Things We Lost In The Fire_ , and plopped the headphones off his ears. Tony answered by kicking his foot slightly under the table, and grumpily attacking his own massive-sized yoghourt doused in all chocolate sauces available, Oreos, chocolate chips—Loki's arteries were terrified to go on staring.

Two girls giggled as they walked past their table, most probably because Tony's beam was a gravitational force of its own despite the dark stains of chocolate on his teeth. Not even Thor had been able to hate him for long—a few casual chats while Tony waited for Loki in the morning to drive him to college had done the trick.

"Well, that's not Christian charity, either. Actually, Dad's priest would probably punish me with a thousand prayers if he ever knew why I started tutoring you." During the brief instant that followed, both realised how that had sounded, and Tony added quickly, running over his own tongue, "I mean, holy crap don't think I was some kind of perv, it was just that I got to spend time with you and you were... Kind? Forget it. I mean it, please forget it. And anyway, I do get paid. Getting paid in dollars is for the poor and the noob—me, I get paid in texts and blushes."

Frowning, Loki tried to play it cool. "...But I don't blush that much," he ended up protesting. As soon as he opened his mouth, a blazing heat fueled by embarrassment scorched his face, setting his throat on fire.

"Oh, sure thing, darling. Really, I don't know what your cheeks are talking about." Tony gulped down another spoonful of extra-calorised topping. "When do you think I'll reach the actual yoghourt? Look, I'm gonna work on something to fix this. It doesn't seem correct that I have to finish the chocolate before reaching it. I mean, I asked for both, not for one then the other—that's tastically boring, and yeah, I just made up that word."

And Loki should have laughed or played along, he knew he should have, because that's what good boyfriends do. But, then again, it was becoming sharply obvious that he wasn't any near to being a good boyfriend, because he was feeling so terrible, and he had since they started going out in public. His stomach rumbled, but he wasn't hungry.

Because the spot on his chin was so ugly,

and red,

and big,

and the bags under his eyes were so dark

and looked so sunken,

and his hair must be a greasy disheveled

**mess**

and all Heavens above he looked so terrible and pathetic and scrawny and he was so unworthy so unworthy of everything so unworthyunworthy _un-wor-thy and the boy—man—looking at him in concern_ why was everyone suddenly starring and he couldn't quite breathe anymore

because the pit of his stomach it

_hurt_

so much now and he wanted to cry and no matter what it wouldn't ease it only tightened further and further and further and further and he was now scrambling to his feet and trying to utter

an apology?

he couldn't offer because it felt like someone was

cho—

chokin'im—

there was this strangled wail he managed to produce

and he looked for the bathroom and ran inside and knew that he had made quite an ashaming fuss and oh God oh God ohGodohGodTonyTonymustbesoembarrasedwhydidhedateme I am so disgusting so whydidhedatemeinthefirstplace maybe may—

—maybe to laugh at him? maybe and the image that blurred past in the mirror so flawed so nauseating, he couldn't help the tears cascading from his eyes, the colour of rotting lettuce.

One image he hated with all his passion because it was so ugly, so revolting, such a nothingness compared to his succesful father Odin and his succesful brother Thor and his successful boyfriend Tony, and it was no surprise to remember that he barely had any friends. And maybe he should realise that he now had an ex-boyfriend, his first and probably last, because he thought about the cell phone weighing inside his pocket and he couldn't decide which was worse, the idea of receiving texts he couldn't bring himself to answer, or the idea of unlocking his personal phone only to have nothing but a reminder that he should charge it soon pop up.

Inside the cubicle there was a weird smell, and he didn't want to sob audibly anyway, so he covered his nose with his sleeve. And he tried to gasp in a little air, honest he did, but it was so difficult when there were so many reasons not to keep on trying.

Someone was calling his name, and as he breathed in deeply and slowly to try to calm down his racing mind a little, his heart went wild at Tony's voice. It wouldn't stop flipping with every shout, no matter what, and that made him feel like a little piece of garbage. Because it wasn't fair, and he should stop clinging to him and being such a burden so that Tony could finally—

"...Lokes! Loki, where are you? Please!"

Although a part of him wanted to listen to Tony's siren song and just give in, let Tony make him feel like everything was alright, Loki gathered every ounce of strength he could muster and simply remained silent. He hoped that Tony would finally give up and forget about him, and he also hoped that Tony would find him and hug him tight enough to fix him, and he also hoped that he could stop being so egoistic because it must be tiresome for Tony, because it was depriving Tony from greater opportunities, better people, brighter smiles. And he also hoped that he could stop hoping. Hope hurt.

Everything was so heavy.

He had been in such a hurry, he hadn't locked the door.

Some doors banged open to his right, then his. Considering the strength with which Tony had flung it, Loki braced himself for something—a hug?, a scream?—just as intense. Instead Tony moved slowly and never broke eye contact, the way he would approach a scared kitten under the rain so that it didn't run away in a fright and get run over. He held his palms at the height of his waist, palms up and fingers separated. His breath was almost even, and he blinked slowly.

"Loki," Tony gasped in a really low voice, entering the cubicle. "I'm going to close this door, in case someone walks in, okay?"

 _Tony,_ Loki wanted to say, but he couldn't. Throat knotted in such a painful lump, and he wanted to scream it undone. And he couldn't. So instead he nodded.

"Alright." He slowly pushed it, gentle and sweet, until it was closed again. He didn't lock it, either. "Loki, I'm here. What's wrong? What do you need?" Tony kneeled on the floor like a knight in a black T-shirt and jeans, one knee then the other. "I'm here, I'm here for you. Tell me what I must do, and I will. You are my number one priority, you know that."

But Loki, sitting crouched on the WC with his legs against his chest and his back against the cold porcelain, couldn't speak yet. Only move his mouth nonsensically, and feel the tears that soon followed build up in the corners of his eyes. When the first one fell, it was impossible to stop all the rest.

Never looking away from Loki's eyes, Tony raised a hand slowly. Then it drew closer and closer to Loki's face, giving him enough time and space to reject or avoid the contact, and when the latter didn't, it rested against his cheek and rubbed the soft skin under his right eye with the thumb. Soon the other hand followed, and Tony wiped his soaked cheeks softly. When Loki cried again, this time from the overwhelming meaning of the gesture, Tony tilted his head and kissed his tears with lips ever so smooth, checking on him every second to pull back the moment Loki showed the slightest discomfort with his being that close.

" _I_ am wrong, Tony," mumbled Loki a few minutes later. Tony's touch had melted the ice in his throat enough that he was able to speak again. "Worthless, and not enough for you. Everyone, you know, they just—you are so confident and good and you shine like the Sun. And I am just the opposite, and I cannot..." Violent sobs cut him off, but Tony didn't take the chance to interrupt him. He patiently waited until Loki was well enough to go on. "Really, I do not know why you are still here, with me. I am boring, and never talk much, and I cannot say anything remotely funny, and I am such a disaster at everything. You, you are so awesome, and I am just so... Me."

For a while, for one of the worst whiles of Loki's entire life, Tony didn't move. Hands cupping Loki's face, thumbs resting against the bridge of Loki's nose, gaze burning through Loki's eyes, he stood extremely still. Something hermetic and quite undecipherable specked his irises and encripted his gaze, which not even Loki could read.

"Oh, Lokes. Precisely because you _are_ you," he whispered in the end. "Because you're the clever dork who sends cute morning texts, and kisses me goodnight—nervous as if it were our first kiss—before getting off the car, and wishes me luck before every meeting, and calls me whenever he somehow guesses that I'm having a rough day. Because you're _you_ , Lokes, I'm the luckiest man on Earth for being by your side."

Tilting his head like a puppy, his lips curved into a smile more tender than Loki had ever seen. But it was faint, and Tony let out a shaky breath, and fragility looked wrong on him.

"Hell below, Lokes. Wish you could see what I see. You'd fall in love, too."

"You see me through rose-tinted glasses." Loki sniffed. And Tony shook his head.

"No, you see _yourself_ through black-tinted glasses. Look, I know you aren't perfect. But no one is, alright? And that's okay, Lokes. You heard me? Open those ears of yours. That's okay—everyone has little flaws. You have a shit self-esteem. Me, I'm too awesome for the world, but no, jokes aside, I can't sit still for long and I'm a dumb rich kid who can't take anything seriously. Thor is physically unable not to beep the goddamned claxon every time he comes to pick you up, even if you're already outside. And it's okay, because we're human and we are allowed to fall down and bleed sometimes. I think those were the lyrics to some soppy pop thing, but anyway, I still have a point.

"Lokes, you've had a panick attack, and it feels like shit. But it's alright, okay? You are allowed to have bad days, and it's alright. You're going to be alright. We're going to be alright. No matter what, I got your back, and I'm not going to leave you alone in this. Do you trust me?"

Mouth tasting like rusty metal, Loki chewed on his lip, then nodded slowly. He wanted to believe in Tony's word. It was so tiresome, feeling the cold fingers of anxiety poke at his flesh and point at him as the world laughed like he was a bad joke. All the faith Tony had put in him, all the kindness, all the love. He wanted to deserve it, wanted to deserve it so bad.

When Tony rested the back of his open hand on Loki's knee, inviting, Loki held it between his and squeezed slightly, with the little strength he could reunite. One foot on the floor, then the other, then he stood and allowed Tony to hug him carefully. Little by little, he raised his arms and hugged him back.

"Very well. Let us choose _you_ this time," Tony whispered in his ear, and he rubbed his back. "You are worthy, Lokes, and I won't rest in peace until you can see it. And don't think everyone else is just fine and happy—I get anxiety from time to time, too. Remember the day when I was going to meet Mr Fury in person for the first time? When I was literally minutes away from the big moment, it suddenly rained on me that I was such an arrogant little shit full of bravado and nothing else. It was so difficult to cope with the feeling, I had to dial your number and wake you when it was 3 AM in the States."

"I remember," Loki said, sniffing again. "You started rambling about muons, and Swiss butter, and random stuff. It made no sense."

Tony laughed. "So you _were_ awake, after all. Anyway, the thing is that I was dying inside. But then you answered at the second tone, and hearing your voice and picturing you there with me, with your arms around me, even if I knew it was impossible because I was in Europe and you were in the States, made the world bearable again."

As he spoke, Tony opened the door of the cubicle slowly and motioned for Loki to walk out first. The moment Loki breathed in, he realised how stale the air inside the small cabinet had become. While he washed his hands, Tony waited patiently, and as soon as they were dry, he caught one of them and held it firmly.

"Come on, let's leave. Store bathrooms always smell terribly."

* * *

Everyone either ordering or having a yoghourt stared the moment they walked out of the bathroom, close to the counter, and Tony let Loki bury his face in his arm. 

"In case it helps," he whispered, "I think they're looking at us because we just exited the girls' restroom. Oops, I guess?"

"Right when I thought I couldn't embarrass you more," Loki mumbled fatiguedly.

"Idiot." Laughing, Tony squeezed Loki's hand and reached up to tickle his neck. "It was a very innocent mistake to make."

"Excuse me," chimed in the cashier, touching Tony's arm near Loki's face. She accidentally brushed his black hair. "Sir, you forgot this on the table."

She handed Tony his wallet, phone, and sunglasses, which were kind of Tony's second heart and lungs—specially the sunglasses. Tony startled, as if he had forgotten about them entirely. Which he probably had. "Whoa, Jesus, thank—"

"Don't just yet, sir. Sorry to tell you, but my boss requested that you two go this moment. Many women complained that there were men in the toilets." She offered them their yoghourts, or rather what was left of their yoghourts, and a sad smile. "Sorry, seriously. These are on the house. But please, believe me if I say that, whatever's going on, I know you will get through it."

It was Tony who broke the tension by nodding, and carefully manoeuvring with his free arm to tuck his belongings inside his pockets before taking both plastic cups. "No prob. Excuse us if we caused you any trouble."

Loki took his own yoghourt from Tony's hands.

"Sorry," she apologised again. "And I really think you can do it. Looks like you're lucky enough to have the right support."

Then she looked at Loki directly and gave him a warm smile. Loki read her nametag, which said 'Hey! I'm Pepper'. He smiled back to Pepper. "Thank you," he said to her, and he meant it.

When they exited the store, after Loki had recovered his backpack, a kid started asking his mother why they were in the girls' bathroom and why they held hands. Tony looked dazed, but suddenly he burst into laughter.

"What? Is it the kid? We can still have the Stranger Things marathon, if you like. I know it's not yoghourt, but..."

"Sure, let's," Tony gasped, a huge grin plastered on his face. "Eggos all the way. Only, I was thinking—it might have been a not-so-innocent mistake, after all. My teacher from twelfth grade, Steve Rogers, he was in there. Should have seen his face, Lokes, it was the effing best I've ever seen."

This time, Loki did laugh and play along as they walked down the street to wait for the bus.


	3. Simple Harmonic Motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for all the love I'm getting! Honest to God I didn't expect a soul to read, and it's just so awesome to get such a response. <3

"Here it goes: 'Have a wonderful day, Mrs Odinson!' Oh, well, she did not bother much, or did she, sir?"

"In fact, it was most probably her secretary who did not bother. If so, she would have noticed that I am no mistress. And you know you do not need to call me 'sir', Heimdall." Loki took from his butler's hands the greetings card, which was a shade of white away from turning into a business card, and dropped it on the 'Recycle' pile.

Heimdall grabbed the next envelope and elegantly opened it with a silver letter opener. The top of it was shaped like a wolf. "Indeed. But you do need to be reminded of your status every now and then, sir."

With a sigh, Loki let himself fall backwards on the bed. This was why he hated his birthday.

No one knew the actual date, so Odin had simply filled in the adoption papers pretending that the day he had found a starving Loki trying to pickpocket him had coincidentally been Loki's birthday as well. But that was something he could deal with. What he couldn't stand were all the polished smiles and empty words from people he didn't know, and who didn't know him either. Because Odin's enterprise was at the very top of its sector, and because New York was home not only to Odin's family, but also to the hungriest wannabe corporate raiders, Loki's e-mail account, phone, and postbox got flooded with their congratulations every year.

And every year, he had to get through the excruciating ritual of reading the messages, pretending that he actually cared, and writing a 'Thank you very much! :)' back. Luckily, Heimdall helped him out, but it still made him feel extremely lonely. If only he could trade all those fake congratulations for just one that was actually heartfelt.

"In case you have not noticed yet, Heimdall, my status tends to disgust me."

"And Mr Odin's smelly shoes tend to disgust me, too, but sometimes we just have to take things as they come." After a short pause to eye the next card, Heimdall shook his head. "I refuse to read this out loud. You might have just turned eighteen, but this is still not appropiate."

"Who sent it?"

"Lady Sif."

Loki shivered.

"Burn it far away from here, and make sure no one accidentally breathes in the ashes."

With a chuckle, Heimdall crumpled the paper and threw it to the bin. Loki whistled, impressed, as he scored a basket.

Loki's room was big enough that he might build a pool between the king-sized bed and the massive wardrobe. Still, it did not look much like a teenager's room. Here and there were folders with Thor's notes from his college years, which Odin had subliminally left around for Loki's inner businessman to feel the call, and three different mobile phones: one for Odin Allföðr's son, one for Thor Odinson's brother, and one for Loki, each with less contact numbers than the previous. The first wouldn't stop buzzing; the second rang every now and then; and the third had only chirped twice that morning.

Sighing again, Loki looked up to the ceiling, which was the only battle he had ever won against Odin's taste in decoration. After a silent war of over half a year when he was fifteen, Heimdall had helped him paint a starry sky, with over a thousands stars of different sizes and colours for him to look at whenever he felt anxious. One of them was emerald, and slightly apart from the rest. When Tony saw his ceiling, it was the first thing he noticed. And when he did, he said, 'It looks about as beautiful as you. Nice try.' And Tony...

"Has he not called you yet, sir?"

Loki closed his eyes.

"Of course. I had forgotten about your mind-reading ability, dearest Heimdall."

"So that means he has not."

In fact, it sounded worse than it actually was. Tony had had to fly to London earlier that week for a meeting with Nick Fury—someone whom Loki knew surprisingly little about, considering that he was a big fish in the military business. Jet-lag and crazy time zones had left Tony feeling 'like Godzilla just threw me up', and even though he had hacked Buckingham Palace's WiFi to send Loki a thousand messages in caps and a four-minute long video explaining why Loki's birthday should be turned into an international holiday—for his hotel's WiFi had gone on strike after the six-hundredth message in caps—, he hadn't phoned. And even though he felt warmer every time he listened to Tony's voice note singing an extremely crooked 'Happy Birthday', it wasn't the same.

Both belonged in the complicated world of business, but Loki had managed to stay away from it thanks to Thor being far more competent, more handsome, and the biological child. A few formal parties and signing some unimportant contracts was all he had to do, most of the times. Tony, on the other hand, had been raised among men in suits and patents for advanced weapons, and had learned to say 'Legally binding' before 'Dad'. And even though they were able to pretend that they were simply Tony and Loki when they were together, more often than not third parties forced Tony to turn back into Howard Stark's son.

"You know he is busy, Heimdall. There is this extremely secret organization I should not be telling you about, S.H.I.E.L.D., and this even more extremely secret boss, Nick Fury. Tony is meeting them today. They are really interested in ALOYSIUS, and Howard has decided that if Tony programs it behind his back, then Tony flies to London to sell it."

"ALOYSIUS?"

"Just some IA knick-knack. It passed Turing's test with flying colours, and the MI6 heard about it."

"Forgive me, but I still wonder about the name."

"Ah, right." Loki yawned. "Tony held an international poll on Twitter in search of the most horrible name to baptise the program."

Someone knocked on the door. Judging from the way the floor creaked behind the door, it was Thor, nervous about something he would say when he entered the room. Loki had learned to hear the weight of guilt on the wooden floor. When Heimdall rose and arched his eyebrows, Loki shook his head.

"No, please. Stay."

The butler bowed his head and sat on the bed again. His amber eyes gleamed with interest as they watched Thor come in and stand besides the bin stiffly. There was an uncomfortable silence before Thor cleared his throat.

"Brother. Happy birthday."

"Thank you, Thor."

"Sorry for not dropping by earlier. We're about to close some big deal, and yesterday we stayed up all night trying to draft a contract."

"I understand."

He really tried to.

"Yeah, well..." Thor rubbed his nape, visibly uncomfortable. "Maybe you should dress up this afternoon. Father's throwing a ball for your eighteenth birthday, and many posh people will attend it. You are kind of every socialite's plan for tonight, I think. And if you aren't yet, you're gonna be in the next ten minutes."

Odin's commercial associates trying to get promoted were not Loki's idea of a birthday party, but they would have to do. After all, Loki could always catch a horrible flu right after meeting everyone, and spend the rest of the night watching Netflix with Heimdall. They were halfway through The Alienist, and Heimdall's conspiracy theories on Laszlo and Sara's relationship needed either confirmation or denial.

So he nodded and smiled. "Sure. Nice haircut, brother, by the way."

Surprised, Thor ran a hand through his short blond mane. "You noticed? It was Jane's doing." Then he turned a bright shade of red, like a Norwegian tomato. Jane Foster was the only girl in the world able to make Thor nervous. And she was so good at it, she did it even from the distance. "Well, talking about Jane, I have to pick her up in an hour, so I'm going to shower. See you later, alligator."

"In a while, crocodile."

When Thor lost his businessman façade, Loki liked him much more.

After Thor had left the room, Heimdall stretched his neck. "You are planning on faking a flu and slipping away from your birthday party to watch Netflix, are you not, sir?"

"It is wrong, I know."

"No, no." The man reached for another envelope. "Count me in. I have bought red liquorice for the occasion."

* * *

Loki's hand was beginning to sweat, and that meant social death in the world of business. In every world, actually, but particularly in the world of business. He had sneaked a peek at the guestlist to get an idea of how many people he would have to greet before slinking off, but even after an hour of working hard, there was no end in sight. His father had invited every breathing New Yorker above fourty, and Loki simply couldn't shake their hands fast enough.

"Hello, darling!" Frey and Freya Njordsen flashed identical smiles at him, then each shook one of Loki's hands. The Danish twins liked to mirror the other's every movement, just for the sake of puzzling others. Loki had always found them rather quirky—too cheerful to be heirs to a multinational. The girl, Freya spoke first. "Happy eighteen! It was only yesterday that we attended your first public speech, and now look at you! All grown up and handsome! A man!"

"Ready to be an adult?" When Loki shyly shook his head, Frey winked at him. "No one is, don't worry. Just act chill and pretend that you know what you're doing. That's what we all do, and it works most of the time."

"Absolutely," Freya nodded. Her blond locks bounced up and down as well. " 'Fake it 'till you make it,' right? Works both for French accent and for adulthood."

Frey rubbed his stubble. "You speak French, sister? Beyond croissant and Bourbon?"

"Ah, mais oui," Freya answered, batting her eyelashes at her twin brother. "Comme si j'étais née à Paris."

"Well, the accent sure works. Whatever you said sounded good." Then they both kissed Loki's cheek at the same time, and smiled again. "Enjoy yourself, boy," Frey said. "And before you break away from the party, have our present."

"Wait, I must have put it around... Here..." Freya fumbled through her Hermès.

"Is it so evident?" Loki protested.

The Njordsen twins looked at each other, then shrugged. Freya explained, hand still inside the handbag, "We've had to sneak away from our own birthday parties often enough to recognise children in distress from afar. No one beats Odin's marketing skills, sure, but when it comes to parenting, he could learn a thing or two. Maybe we can organise group lessons for him and Mother." Then she found what she was looking for. "Here!"

It was a leather bracelet made of six thick straps, in groups of two which were intertwined, simple enough to please Loki. Apart from Heimdall's tickets to see Bastille live, it was the first present he had received.

"Thank you," he said, and for the first time in that evening, he meant it.

"Sweetheart, you're welcome. And if anybody asks us, you looked rather pale and nauseated when we last saw you." Freya kissed his cheek again, then pulled Frey along as she walked away. Loki decided that, even if he hated the business world, he rather liked the Njordsens.

* * *

After a few more associates of Odin's, he was feeling anxious and judged enough to flee. The Odinsons' living room was full of rich people behaving like they owned the world and the people in it, something Loki couldn't quite stand. Whenever one of them stared at him, he wished that the carpet could somehow swallow him whole and spit him in the middle of the Siberian plains. Unfortunately, their carpet had not learned to do such yet. It only swallowed spare change that fell from Loki's pockets every now and then.

As he discreetly tiptoed towards the stairs, he noticed an open window to his right. One that, the night being chilly, had not been open a minute ago. Someone must have opened it because it is hotter here than in the Mount of Destiny, he told himself. Just keep walking, and your misery will die down a bit. Two old ladies stopped him on his way to the staircase to plant two humid kisses on his cheeks, but aside from that, he succeeded in sneaking away.

The upper floor was pleasantly silent. Loki enjoyed the quietness as he strolled down the long corridors, which were four or five degrees below the ballroom temperature. His moccasins clickety-clacked on the marble tiles, so he took them out. Under his feet, the floor was cold, and the guests were chattering vividly.

When he opened his bedroom door, he first noticed the moonlight coming in through the window, then the absolute darkness. There was no Netflix in sight, nor was Heimdall around. And if he was, he was hiding extremely well. Loki dropped his shoes to the floor, then started patting the wall for the switch. But when he found it, it wouldn't work, so he let out a frustrated grunt and walked towards the table. The phone belonging to Odin Allföðr's son hadn't stopped buzzing, but the other two were dead silent. He pressed his personal phone's unlock button, then waited a second until it recognised his fingerprint. A missed call from his biological mother Laufey, messages from some highschool friends, a Tapastic notification, and a promotion from McDonald's. Nothing else.

He sighed and tapped on the message app's notifications, still standing, not bothering to grab the phone. Right when he was halfway through the class group's messages—someone had even sent a meme, and that actually made him feel appreciated—, two arms closed around him from behind. He was about to scream when he recognised the smell.

Axe, cookies, and car oil.

"I would have come earlier, but the goddamned airport wouldn't let me fly my own jet. And I said, 'Sorry, John Doe, who are you to say I can't fly my own jet?', but John Doe got all peeved and made a big fuss. And then I was in Scotland Yard, for some reason, and John Doe was accusing me of whatever, so I just showed my ID and let them mortals bow down, then ran back to the friggin' airport—actually, I took a taxi, because the airport was slightly far for a run—and finally flew my jet. Brits are bizarre, looks like they have something against people with private jets."

Loki closed his eyes and smiled as Tony rambled on. He rested his head against his chest and allowed himself to feel at home for the first time in the week they had spent in different continents.

"...So yeah, this summer we'll head off to somewhere a little more respectful with private-jet guys. Happy birthday, Lokes." Tony kissed Loki's cheek, then failed to kiss his nose. "If you don't turn around, I can do little more. Short guy alert." Loki decided to make him wait a little more, which was far more of a torture than a little game to work Tony up. "Ah, great, so I become an Undesirable Number One in the UK and fly the jet for six hours straight to get this welcome? Very nice of you, mister Laufeyson."

Tony started to kiss Loki's neck as he tickled his sides. As he writhed and tried not to howl from laughter, the small part of Loki's brain that was still able to think vaguely wondered whether Tony knew he was risking an accidentally broken nose. He stumbled backwards until he fell on the bed, then 'auch'ed as Tony fell on top of him, still laughing.

"Hey, stop, I—can't—breathe, Tony," Loki panted, his belly sore already.

"Yeah, well, tell that to John Doe, maybe he will care." Under the moonlight that bathed Loki's bed in a fairytale-like gleam, Tony could see his face and he could see Tony's. They stayed perfectly still for a single second, which lingered in the air as Tony leaned down for a slow, tender kiss on the lips. Loki's chest hurt from happiness as he kissed him back, which was quite a curious paradox, but one he did not mind experiencing at all. Then Tony cupped his face with his familiar, calloused hands, and Loki couldn't fight back a pleased sigh. He had missed Tony so much. So so much.

"Wait," Tony said against his lips after some minutes. The words tickled in Loki's mouth. "What's that around your wrist?"

"Oh." Loki untangled his fingers and lowered his right hand from behind Tony's neck to show him. "A present."

"You are a present," Tony murmured, studying it. Loki pretended that there were no nuclear bombs exploding inside his stomach as he spoke on.

"It is from two associates of my father's, the Njordsens. Apparently, they had a horrible childhood filled with business birthday parties as well. They feel our pain."

Tony slowly traced the six straps of leather with a finger around Loki's wrist. "Friends, then. Sound like good people—I should close some deal with them. Maybe when I develop some other IA, or a robot that can make coffee."

"That one already exists," Loki pointed out, propping up on his left elbow. "Nespresso."

Tony arched his eyebrows, then clicked his tongue. "Them thieves of ideas. One can't trust no one, or can we. Fine, then, I'll just invent a robot that can make iced tea."

"Nespresso machines can also make iced tea. There are special capsules Heimdall is addicted to."

"Loving Lokes, will you stop being such a buzz-killer? Let's just dream of a world were nothing has been patented yet."

Loki laughed, and after a second, Tony laughed too. He let go of Loki's hand and lied besides him, pulling him closer by the waist and burying his face against his chest. He started planting small kisses all over Loki.

"I missed you a lot."

"I... I missed you too," Loki admitted in a whisper.

"And your heart missed a beat right there."

"Shut up."

"What if I don't want to? Will you take me to Scotland Yard, like John Doe? I'm warning you, I know jiu-jitsu and..."

Loki interrupted him with a kiss, something Tony couldn't argue against.

"Idiot, I was speaking." Or maybe he could, but then he leaned in again and they called it a draw.

In the end, Tony pulled away. "Wait, I was going to do something important." He tapped a finger against his forehead. "Ah, right. Let's sneak through the window."

"Tony, we're on the second floor. Are you serious?"

"Of course I am. When have I been other than serious? Besides, Heimdall helped me tie some sheets together and it took us a whole ten minutes of our precious lives, so down them you go, Rapunzel."

Somehow, Loki wasn't surprised to hear that Heimdall had helped Tony out. When both Tony and he were safely standing in the backyard, Tony whistled, and someone—presumably Heimdall—dragged the knotted sheets back inside the room. Then Tony offered Loki his hand, and they walked away from Odinson Manor.

* * *

"Ta-dah." Tony removed his hands from Loki's eyes, and opened his arms in front of him. "A red-eye picnic under the stars. Tonight there's going to be a meteor shower, so I thought we could watch it together. In case it's a shitty plan, we also have three bottles of wine. Don't worry, I got our backs."

Tony had set a typical picnic tablecloth, roughly the size of a Mini, in the middle of the cloverfield. There were sandwiches, cheese, a quiche, fruit, waffles, croissants, several types of jam, Doritos, and bottles of water, juice, and wine. Inside a very typical picnic basket were the cutlery and the plates, and also a tea service. The sky was studded with bright stars that shone fiercely, and with a little imagination effort, Loki could distinguish one arm of the Milky Way. It was everything he could have asked for—only, better. Besides him, Tony was rocking back and forth on his feet.

"Do you like it, Lokes?" he asked nervously. "We can always go back and do something else. For example, I would like to sleep off the next three years."

"It is... perfect, Tony," Loki whispered. He stood still, admiring the beautiful scene. "Just... Thank you. So much."

Tony chewed on his lip. "Hopefully you're not simply being polite. Sorry, Lokes, but I want to do things right with you. If you don't like it, you just tell me. Father will be very pleased if I let him eat the waffles, so..."

"Tony," Loki repeated. "I said it is perfect."

"But you are an extremely polite person."

"Come on, Tony. I would never lie to you, you know that."

"Not even to spare me hurt feelings about my picnic?"

"Specially not when it comes to your picnic." Loki walked over to the tablecloth and sat down. "Come here and sit down, please. Picnicking alone is awful."

Tony did as told, only he sat right behind Loki so that he could hug him from behind. Loki's suit ended up covered in bright orange Dorito dust and crumbs from the quiche, but he couldn't care less. When the first star fell from the sky, he curled up and rested his head against Tony's chest, watching the flashing lights of the comets as they glided across the sky. None spoke for a while. Tony sipped his glass of wine, then offered it to Loki, who gently declined the offer.

"But have you ever tasted it?"

Loki doubted. "When I was little and Father took us to the church on Sundays, some days the priest would dip the host in the wine. I hated it."

"If you ever compare cheap mass wine to a Romanee Conti in front of me again, we are over." Tony shook his head. "All things holy. If all wines were like mass wines, there would be no alcoholism. Trust me, no sane priest would drink this. Sinful and too expensive."

"Alright, alright." Loki took the glass between both hands, then took a small sip like a little kid tasting hot chocolate for the first time. "It does taste... Impressive," he recognised.

Tony suddenly leaned forward and stole a kiss. "Mmmmh. It does, indeed. Happy eighteen, Lokes."

Loki rubbed his nose, sipped the wine again, and shyly smiled. "Thanks, Tony."

Another shooting star crossed the sky.


	4. Nuclear Fission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankfully enough, no-one in my family suffers from Alzheimer, so I have no direct experience with it whatsoever. If there is any inaccuracy related to the disease, please let me know!

Usually, when the Allföðr men wanted to say something by means of organising a press conference where they could break the news to half of the businessmen worldwide, it wasn't something Loki enjoyed saying or hearing. From the three press conferences he had endured already, only one had gone smooth—the first one, when Odin publicly recognised him as his son, as soon as the adoption paperwork was done. Second and third press conferences had been arranged to announce that it would be Thor inheriting his business someday, and Loki, well, they would see in time; and that Loki's biological mother, Laufey, had been hospitalised because of her drug addiction. Even though that should have been something private, somehow a journalist managed to follow Loki to his mother's small apartment and eavesdrop as he told her that he was putting her in a clinic where they could help her. Every scream from Laufey, and attempt at calming her down by Loki, appeared on the newspapers the next morning, offering an extremely twisted view of the situation. The journalist looked extremely proud of herself as Odin and Loki tried to keep their poker faces on and explain that Loki didn't have any kind of problem with drugs, he was only helping his mother. Loki?, he would have loved to erase the radiant smile on her face. Tooth by tooth.

Adjusting the grey bowtie around his neck, Loki knew that it wasn't the reason why he felt like he was choking. Heimdall, who had stood besides him with his hands behind his back, helped him loosen it a little. The warm darkness of his skin made Loki look paler, and sicker to his stomach.

"One more inch, and it might tilt forwards in the worst moment possible," Heimdall warned Loki when the latter went on pulling. "Imagine leaning towards the microphone to speak, and having to endure the terrible shame of having your tie tapping it because of a negligent adjustment. It would go down in history as One of the Worst Nightmares of a Businessman Come True."

"Thank you," Loki said. He hated the strangled sound that was his voice. "But maybe I will not speak at all, only listen—after all, Father has not told me to prepare any discourse."

Heimdall didn't reply. He simply patted off Loki's suit some nonexistent dust, and rested his hands on Loki's shoulders when he was done. And because Heimdall could be many things, but not the one to skitter away from the chance of polite sarcasm, Loki sensed that something was off. And suddenly he was afraid.

"Heimdall," he began slowly, meeting his gaze in the mirror. "Dearest Heimdall, you have been a second father to me since I arrived in this house. If there was anything you thought I should know, you would tell me, yes?"

"Of course, sir. Of course. You know I would never lie to you."

But Loki had grown used to double-checking everything he was told, with a bittersweet accuracy thanks to his ability to read people the way he read highlighted words in his textbooks. Apparently Heimdall didn't know that lying by omission still counted as lying.

* * *

 

The  Allföðr mansion had a room specifically for press conferences, and that morning it was overflowing with journalists, cameramen, and even a fellow chief executive or two. Some well-known reporters chattered with those from other television networks, while almost every camera guy was busy cleaning the lenses with infinite care. Photos were being taken already, the flash making the polished marble floor shine as if made of glitter and glass.

From the grey walls hung several pictures of Odin shaking hands with important people. One in which he was with Barack Obama had been placed near another in which Odin, Thor, Loki, and Emma Watson were smiling as Thor took the selfie. Thor himself figured on his own in a few pictures, with men whose names Loki couldn't remember. And Loki—from all the pictures with important people in the house, Loki was alone in only two. One with Malala Yousazfai, from when he had attended a talk on women's rights undercover and they had ended up discussing the best ways to empower females in businesses. And another with the Stonewall chief executive Ruth Hunt, with whom he liked to keep in touch because of how valid and accepted she made him feel. Both hung from his bedroom walls, as they both were pretty much informal and unbusiness-related.

His mind wandered off, and he found himself fearing that Odin had finally decided to make it official that his son was gay and dating Anthony Stark. Tony had never been ashamed of their relationship, and had never insisted on keeping it a secret or avoiding being seen together in public. And they had never really received hate, only the typical comments on Instagram from anonymous people, which many followers quickly answered to and reported as offensive. Tony liked to take it as a good omen. On the other hand, Loki felt more paranoid, and got anxious even when they were just holding hands. Because he couldn't stop fearing what it could mean to Tony's future.

Thor was inheriting the family business, and as a handsome, soon-to-be-married straight white male, it would be as easy as ABC to get accepted and welcomed in the world of finances. Being the model businessman, he had nothing to worry about. Tony, on the other hand, would take the Stark Industries upon his shoulders as a stunning but bisexual and under-twenty boy, and Loki was pretty unsure whether this could mean trouble for him. There was a reason why people in their world rarely ever came out as non-heterosexual outside the fashion design industry.

"...Loki! Hey, are you awake?" Thor was snapping his fingers right under his nose. "It's time. Come on."

"Right, yes." Loki shook his head slightly, trying to chase away somber thoughts about what might be. Now he had to face what was, and leave every concern about the future for later.

When Odin entered the room, every soul quietened. Someone shifted their weight from one leg to the other, making their shoe grate slightly against the floor. Odin walked towards his two sons like there was no one else in the room, wearing an effortlesly neutral face, and rested a hand on their shoulders. He squeezed slightly.

"Thor, Loki. Please accompany me to the stand."

Odin was never affectionate with them in public.

Puzzled, Thor and Loki exchanged a glare before doing as told. As Odin took a second to spread the papers on which he had written his speech, Thor and Loki sat together on the two chairs behind their father, to his right so that he wouldn't block the view of them. Years of practise took over, and their backs straightened as soon as they touched the soft black cushioning.

"Ahem." Odin cleared his throat audibly, and if there had been quietness before, now there was the heavy silence of a tomb. "Good morning, and thank you for attending this conference even in such short notice. As you must have imagined, there is a strong reason why I have arranged this all of a sudden, without any previous announcement. There has barely been time for even leaks." He smiled briefly. Then he looked down at his papers, stood still for a second, and put them away sighing. "Today I want to speak about something that has been worrying me for a long time: my health."

Thor and Loki jerked their heads to look at each other again. Loki could see his own silent horror reflected in Thor's wide-open eyes. Whatever their father was going to say, he hadn't told them beforehand. They knew as little as the journalists.

"My beloved spouse, Frigga, passed away a few years ago." All the room breathed in sharply, for Odin had never publicly spoken about Frigga Allföðr before. "She worked until the very end, and even during her last days, she never stopped worrying about me and our children, and about the business we built together. There was something she asked me to do. She asked me to take good care of our biggest achievements, which are the two young men we raised, and of myself.

"This last promise I made her, that of caring for myself, was never as important as Thor and Loki's wellfare. I am proud to say that my sons are what matters the most to me, and proud to see the men they have grown up into. But recently it has become painfully clear that I..." Odin coughed. "There is no easy way to say this, actually. Ladies and gentlemen, I am sick."

Thor couldn't help himself. "Father!" he cried, forgetting about the hundreds of people watching and recording. Loki grabbed his sleeve instantly, and pulled so that Thor wouldn't run to their father and probably cause the biggest fuss in the history of their family. As much as he ached to jump to his feet and hold Odin's hand, he knew their father wouldn't like that. There must be a reason why he hadn't told them in private before, and whatever the reason was, Loki had to respect it. The way Odin had respected the reason why Loki had never told them why he was working with pro-LGBTI charities and organisations, or the reason why Thor had spent three years setting up a charity foundation with Loki before telling him.

The Allföðr family always trusted each other, even when there were secrets inbetween. And they would have to trust Odin on this one.

Instead of the reasonable barrage of questions, the journalists offered them a respectful silence. Odin nodded, and went on.

"As you can see, this is not only the first time I speak about it in public, but also the first time I tell my sons. There are reasons why I have done things this way, but they are not of public concern. Of public concern is the nature of my illness, for it is the reason why we have gathered here. I suffer from the Alzheimer disease."

The whole room exploded into confused questioning and exclamations of horror, everyone trying to know the whys and hows and whats at the same time. The noise peaked and then it began to fade in Loki's ears, as he realised what Odin had just said.

When he was little, very little, before being adopted by Odin, Loki had lived with his mother and stepfather. Mostly they lived in the streets, for Laufey couldn't get a proper job due to being a single, homeless mother with a past addiction to drugs, and her boyfriend Farbauti came and went depending on how much money he had in his pockets to pay for a bottle of alcohol. She had told Loki once that Farbauti was actually his father, but Loki had always refused to believe her on that. Farbauti was cowardly and irresponsible enough that he would have never gone back to Laufey after getting her pregnant.

The thing was, Laufey's father had let them in from time to time, mostly when Loki got sick from sleeping on the cold floor and they couldn't pay for a doctor. His grandfather had always been a kind man, reading traditional Norse tales to him when he had trouble falling asleep because of a fever, and asking about his favourite things—favourite colour, favourite animal, favourite food. When Loki had said that his favourite food was warm food, his grandfather had hugged him tight and cried in silence. He remembered the tender eyes with which he had promised to bring him extra hot soup, and he remembered that he had. Also he remembered the arguments his grandfather had had with Laufey so that she would accept his help and let him take them under his wing. Laufey had refused, but Loki had been allowed to spend the day with his grandfather every two Sundays.

And he had watched him fall. His grandfather started to slowly lose his mind. First he forgot what he was doing in the kitchen, when he had told Loki a few seconds ago that he was going to get a glass of water. Then he forgot where he had placed certain things, such as his wallet or his glasses. After that he began to forget what he had done the day before, then the season they were in, then how to lace his own shoes. Loki had had to explain to him how to play chess, a game _he_ had taught Loki how to play. Several times. Then he had had to explain that 'the stick to write' was a pencil, and 'the little dwarf that barks' was a dog. _His_ dog, Fenrir.

The last time Laufey allowed him to visit his grandfather, he didn't know who Loki was. First he smiled sheepishly and said that he was a very handsome boy, then suddenly he had an angry burst and started screaming at the strange pickpocket in front of him to go away and never steal from him again. Loki had inherited his green eyes, but he couldn't recognise them anymore. He wasn't his grandfather anymore. Piece by piece, little by little, Loki had lost him forever.

Now he was going to lose Odin.

Tears flowed from his eyes, but he couldn't care less. All he could pay attention to was Odin, his hands clenched in fists despite his apparent calm as he went on. He made an effort to tune in again. Thor looked for Loki's hand, and when he found it, he squeezed it so tight Loki feared it would break. Loki suspected it was actually keeping both of them from falling apart.

"I was diagnosed a week ago. As I visited the doctor as soon as I noticed that I was beginning to forget about little details, which I have never in my life had trouble with, the disease is still at a very early stage. Good news for me was that, with regular treatment, and despite there being no cure, I still have nearly two years of complete functionality before the Alzheimer affects my long-term memory. But even under these good conditions, I will no longer be able to direct the business Frigga and I put together. Today, Thor, my son," he said, turning to face the weeping siblings, "you will inherit the enterprise."

No one said anything. Thor remained perfectly still for a whole minute, staring at his father in deep shock. Then he slowly shook his head. Hand still in Loki's, he rose. Inertia did its trick, and Loki found himself standing as well, even though he didn't remember leaving his seat.

"Father, this is..."

"Thor, _please_." Even when he was clearly in pain, Odin was able to keep his voice it under control. "If I ask this from you, it is because I am both unable to carry on, and sure that you will do great. Even if you are my son, and despite all my love for you, I would never make you my successor if I had the slightest doubt concerning your validness. But you have proved that you are ready several times already. Your mother and I could not have wished for a better heir, nor a better son."

Loki could feel Thor's urge to scream and demand answers, but neither had forgotten that the room was still full of TV cameras and journalists eager to hit the jackpot with a juicy report on what was happening. Somehow, Thor kept himself at bait.

"We should discuss this matter privately, Father." Tired, cold, Thor's voice sounded like a mirror shattering.

"And we will, son. But for now, let me finish." Odin offered them the faintest of smiles before turning back to the rest of the room. "The Allföðr enterprise, as you know, gave birth to a charitable foundation some years ago. Settled in the heart of Iceland, Vernda Börnin is a non-profit organisation that takes care of homeless children in the country, particularly those having been forced to beg in the streets, and provides a home. All the while, it takes in adoption requests and thoroughly evaluates the candidates to parenthood, to ensure that these children will find the warmth of a home and the love they never received back where they come from. Vernda Börnin looks after these kids, the way..." His voice broke at this point. "The way I tried to look after my own son, Loki, from the minute I laid eyes on him.

"It is for this reason that I have decided to make you, Loki, son, the head of Vernda Börnin. Because you changed Frigga, Thor and me, touched our lives and made them better, I cannot think of anyone more suited to take these children, heal their broken wings, and show them that they can still fly."

* * *

 

Neither Loki nor Thor stayed in the room after Odin thanked everyone for attending and opened the round of questions. Both rose and gathered the little composture they had left to exit the room, then collapsed to their knees and held each other as they wept.

Because Odin was sick.

Because he hadn't told them.

Because he was losing himself slowly.

Because they were losing him slowly.

Because they couldn't do anything but hold his hand, and tell her that 'the little dwarf that barks' was a dog, and remind him how to lace his own shoes.

Thor's tears dumpened his suit, but Loki could only feel his own tears dumpening his heart. He thought of his grandfather, and he thought of Odin slowly turning into him, and he cried on. At some point, Thor left. He braced himself and cried on. He cried on. And on. And he cried on and on and on.

Someone grabbed his shoulder gently, and helped him to his feet although he wanted to remain right where he was. He tried to break free violently, but Heimdall's grip was firm, and led him upstairs even as Loki struggled to pull away and called him names, called him horrible things he had never said to anyone. There was a perverse pleasure in doing so.

"Who do you think you are to touch me? Leave me fucking alone, Heimdall! I SAID LEAVE ME FUCKING ALONE! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!"

"Sir, I am sorry," whispered Heimdall, and he did sound sorry. "But I will not let you down there, like a juicy prey for the journalists. What do you think they will do if they find you in such a vulnerable state? They will throw their questions at you even if it rips your heart apart, and then they will deform you grotesquely using your pain, because that is what readers want, what the audience will like. Do not give them the chance to make a living out of your sorrow, Loki. Do not let them capitalise on your pain."

Maybe it was because Heimdall had used his name instead of calling him sir, or maybe it was because what he said made sense, but Loki couldn't fight him anymore. Suddenly he was incredibly tired, so tired his legs wouldn't work properly, and all he wanted was to sleep it off, to sleep it all off, to wake and see that it had been just a particularly sadistic nightmare... And the darkness was coming, and he embraced it, and he let himself go.

* * *

 

He woke at past midnight, with a disgusting taste in his mouth. He was in his bedroom. His head hurt. It always hurt afterwards when he cried a lot. Since the last time he had seen his grandfather, he had never again had such a headache. He had a brief two seconds to identify it as a migraine before the nausea took over—when he turned his head to throw up, Heimdall was ready, holding up a washbasin by his side.

"There, there," he whispered, and used one hand to keep the hair from falling down Loki's face. His palm was cool against Loki's sticky forehead. "Out, everything out."

It came to a point where he didn't have anything left inside his stomach to go on vomiting, but he was still seized by gag reflexes. Heimdall set the acrid-smelling basin aside, on the floor, and rested his hands on Loki's shoulders to squeeze, massaging the patch of skin near his neck. The area above Loki's right eyebrow throbbed and beated like a heart of its own. Every time it did, Loki wanted to throw up again. The room seemed to spin around him, even if he closed his eyes.

"Look up at the stars, Loki. Cygnus, I want you to find me a Cygnus. Can you do that for me? Just one constellation. Cygnus, the Swan." Heimdall hurriedly took the basin to the bathroom as Loki scanned the ceiling absent-mindedly for stars aligned in a sort of Christian cross. Loki heard a plopping sound, then water running. The basin was wet and clean when Heimdall returned. "Where is Cygnus, Loki?"

"There," he said in a husky voice. But he didn't want to look for Cygnus. He remembered how, despite initially opposing to Loki decorating his own room in the most DIY of ways, Odin had ended up helping him paint the ceiling. He turned on his side right in time to throw up again, this time only gastric juices and bile. Again, Heimdall held the basin for him. Throat burning, eyes itching, Loki cleaned the corner of his mouth with a shaky hand. "He really is sick."

In silence, Heimdall rubbed Loki's forehead and nodded.

Then Loki sniffed, so Heimdall opened his arms and offered him a shelter from the world.

* * *

 

Nightmares had chased him in his sleep, so Loki refused to give them another chance. Instead, he and Heimdall ended up doing a marathon of Friends, which none of them actually paid any attention to. Heimdall had wrapped his arm around Loki's shoulders, and under the covers, his free hand held Loki's. Usually they watched TV shows with a massive bag of red liquorice and milkshakes, but Heimdall hadn't gotten them. Thankfully.. Loki didn't feel anywhere near able to eat or drink anything.

While Rachel and Monica argued with Chandler over whatever nonsense, Heimdall rubbed his shoulder. "Loki, maybe you would rather not hear this right now, but you have several missed calls and many messages from Anthony."

Loki nodded half-heartedly. Of course he did. Such a bomb wouldn't have taken long to explode, for journalists usually published articles as soon as they had a small piece of information to make sure their privilege of being the first ones to cover an issue bought them more readers and more prestige. ALOYSIUS, Tony's IA, would have informed him as soon as a single journal published a word on Odin's revelation.

He longed for Tony's warmth, and he couldn't bring himself to reach for the phone and just type, 'Come'. Heimdall could, of course, do it for him. But then he realised that he didn't want Tony to come, actually. He didn't want to receive pity. He didn't want Tony to look at him the way he looked at the ancient Ming vase Howard Stark had put in the hall recently, like he was something that could break any moment if Tony wasn't careful enough. But above it all he didn't want to tell him that, with Vernda Börnin...

He didn't want anyone around.

Just Heimdall, and his quiet reassurance.

After a few more episodes, the dawn began to break.

"Sir, I believe Tony is worried."

"I know." Loki didn't say anything else.

"When the time comes and you inherit Vernda Börnin... And it will come soon..., you know you will have to..."

"Yes."

Heimdall stayed quiet for a while, as he chose a different show.

"Will you tell him?"

"Not yet."

"But you will have to, at some point."

Loki let out an exhausted sigh. "Obviously, Heimdall. It is not something I can keep from him, right? It would be slightly difficult to hide."

He ached. Everything ached. He didn't want Tony to come. He didn't want to leave Tony.

Why did Odin have to suffer from Alzheimer.

Why did Odin have to be sick.

"Sir, I will go with you wherever you go. Hopefully you know that."

"You do not have to," Loki said gently.

He was going to leave everything he had worked for behind.

"But I will nonetheless. Besides, I've heard they make fine hangikjöt in Akureyri."

Loki thought of Tony. Tony would say the exact same words as Heimdall, and start looking up the best places to eat ice-cream in Iceland on the Internet. Surely enough, he would even start ordering parkas, and ski boots, and furry jackets. He would work out a schedule to visit Loki every week, and then he would tell him that it was okay when Loki started complaining that it wasn't fair for him. Tony would cross the ocean for him every seven days. But Loki didn't want him to. Loki just wanted Tony to live his life and be happy.

When they started dating, Loki had feared the day when he would become a responsibility, or a burden. It was about to arrive.


	5. Quantum Chromodynamics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! Yesterday I accompanied a friend to a singing TV contest try-outs, and because the organization was a mess, we spent a whole five hours queuing under the scorching sun only to have them refuse to hear him. Although I got home at a decent time, I was so tired and angry I couldn't bring myself to write the whole thing, so it's had to wait until today. Hopefully it's worth the wait.

On stressful days, Loki liked to visit the Duck Pond. Its name was quite obviously not 'the Duck Pond', but Odin took him there every Sunday when he was adopted, and what he always liked the most were the ducks. Calm and elegant they glided across the smooth surface of the water, racing for the crumbs of bread thrown by the bystanders. Little ducklings followed their mothers in a perfect row of five small creatures, and from time to time, here and there popped up the wrinkled head of the turtles with whom the ducks shared the pond. Sometimes even the orange fish dared let themselves be seen briefly, flashes of bronze under the afternoon light.

And so today he sat on the emerald grass just a foot or two away from the edge of the pond, watching as two ducks fooled around jumping off a rock and swimming back to it. Even though his music helped him run away from reality and shelter between the notes until he was calmer, today he tried to soothe his nerves by listening to the birds' squawking and splashing.

"Nice place—I see why you used to like it." Without making much noise beyond a slight brushing sound, Tony sat besides him.

"Actually, I still like it." Loki lowered his eyes for a second, staring at his bent-up knees, then lowered one and reached for Tony's hand. "Thanks for coming."

"Like hell I wasn't going to." Tony ran his free hand through his hair. "You know I don't want to push it. But you've been... somewhere else since Odin—he came out as sick with Alzheimer. I understand you need some space, and I'm happy to give it to you if it will help. But I can't help worrying, Lokes."

They stayed in silence for a second, watching a duckling who couldn't swim fast enough and was each time farther from his mother and her queue of offspring. "This is the first time I have touched you since he told."

Tony nodded. Then he carefully pressed a kiss to Loki's wrist. "I don't care about the whole touching thing. I just want you to be alright, and if it takes a temporary vow of chastity, then so be it. Wait a—that qualifies as parental negligence, Mrs Duck, I'm watching you!"

After Tony shouted at the duck a little more for being a terrible mother, and swore to become a Senator someday just to reinforce laws protecting orphan ducklings, he lied back on the grass and allowed Loki to rest his head on his stomach. They watched the clouds, the way Loki liked to as a child. Not even that made him feel better.

He had texted Tony that morning with a clear purpose on mind, but now the words weighed in his stomach and refused to come up. Nonetheless they would have to. Feeling unexplainably guilty already, he turned on his side so that he was staring at Tony's chin. The latter felt him shift, and propped up on his elbows to look down at Loki, squinting.

"Please don't look at my double chin, or else I might lose all dignity."

"Double chin? You do not have that."

"Yeah, that's what I meant."

Loki couldn't help a small smile. Upon seeing it Tony smiled too.

"Anyway, Tony—" Loki sat up, his legs crossed Indian-style. "I guess you know already I made you come here to tell you something important." At Tony's nod, he cleared his throat and forced himself to go on. "When Odin said that I would be inheriting Vernda Börnin, the orphanage, he meant it the old-fashioned way. He meant..." Loki closed his eyes, dizzy with the bitter taste of his inheritance. "He meant I will be moving to Iceland."

"Iceland."

"Yes."

"As in European-Country Iceland."

"Yes."

Tony stayed silent for a while.

"But where's the problem? Europeans have a funny accent, and some kind of worship of Americans. There's no way they won't like you there."

A duck quacked irefully when his partner stole the last crumb of bread under his nose, and began chasing him across the pond. The kid who had thrown it looked amused, which was almost cruel taking into account that the chaser duck seemed seriously invested in pecking at his prey to death.

"No, but..." Loki sighed. "Apart from it being a new place, where I will consequently have to start from scratch with everyone as the former boss' son and also the new boss, and try not to mess up too badly, I will be alone with all the children and the staff. Heimdall is coming along, but only he. No one else from my old life."

"And that includes me." Tony sighed. "But why is it a problem? It was quite obvious to me that I wouldn't be moving up to Iceland. Dad threatens each time more often with passing on Stark Industries to me soon, so I can't just throw a few T-shirts inside a suitcase and leave for Europe. We knew that much already, didn't we?"

"Yes, I guess." Loki lowered his gaze to his hands, fingers intertwined with such strength that not only had the knuckles gone white, but also the thin bones stood out against his flesh.

"Lokes, it doesn't mean I'll stop wanting you." With a reassuring smile, Tony reached up and gently brushed a few strands of rebel hair off Loki's forehead. "Okay, this is  the world of business and it's going to be hell trying to take you out for dinner, but we knew that much beforehand. When we began going out, we already knew this day would come, or didn't we? The important thing we should be thinking of is figuring how to make both things work properly, but don't worry. I'm a prodigy child, after all." He offered Loki a reassuring smile. "As long as you want me too, I can work it out. For us."

"Do you ever get tired of having to be the knight in the shiny armour?"

There was no bitterness in Loki's question, only sheer curiosity.

Tony let out a generous laugh. "Although I must agree that a purple dress would look impressive on me, I have to say no. We're both pretty manly knights who help each other out, what's the problem with that? From past experiences, anyway, I can tell you that princesses nowadays can take care of themselves much better than most knights."

"Hm." Loki pursed his lips. "More than a knight, I think I would be a wizard. Swords sound boring to me."

"Talk about plot twists," Tony laughed. "Next thing you know, the princess will be going out with the dragon."

"Boring. Maybe she'll just ditch the whole going out thing and kill the dragon herself."

"Kickass princesses. It would be such a better world."

* * *

From then on until the day before Loki's departure, a month later, they went back to seeing each other almost daily. They watched old films Tony commented on as if they were football matches, and overall cuddled together. Heimdall and Thor joined them for the Star Wars Marathon and the Indiana Jones Night, but they were mostly alone.

"I _am_ telling you, I like the original version better."

They were spread out on Loki's bed and trying to decide which of the two _Beauty and the Beast_ versions was worthier of their time. Nearly half an hour of argument hadn't settled it yet.

"How can you say that!?" Tony let out a horrified gasp. "But Emma Watson...!"

"Just play whichever version you prefer, I am just saying that I prefeer the cartoon one."

"BLASPHEMY!"

Remote in hand, Tony dropped backwards to the sofa and pretended to be about to faint. If he hadn't been tied to the Stark Industries from the second he was born, Loki imagined he would have gone for acting. He was good at it.

"Come on, it isn't cool if you don't fight me to death over the remote," Tony called him.

"But how is that cool? Welcome to democracy, Tony."

"You are a coward," Tony accused him half-heartedly. "Normal people would be tickling me so that I drop it, at the very least."

Slightly exasperated and immensely amused, Loki sighed. "If it will please you." Then he waited a moment before launching himself towards Tony, who let out a strangled grunt as his boyfriend's weight came crashing on him. Loki wriggled like a worm to avoid Tony's strong legs kicking him away, and reached for the remote. But Tony freed an arm from under Loki's body and held it so high, Loki could only scratch the inner face of his elbow.

Then Loki decided to change the game, and kissed Tony's neck with passion. Tony was so stunned by the move, he dropped the remote—and as soon as he did, Loki's hand darted forwards and seized it. He smiled happily. "Cartoon version, it is."

Too baffled to speak, Tony rubbed his neck. "You just... What was that?"

Loki felt suddenly self-conscious. Maybe it had bothered, or disgusted, Tony, because he had never done that before nor asked for permission. "Sorry, I think I..."

Tony shook his head with such energy, the couch bounced. "Shut up and do it again."

Now it was Loki's turn to let his jaw drop to the floor. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Tony exposed his neck dramatically, which reminded Loki of the Béla Lugosi films' women. The whole thing was so awkward, Loki just stared at him. "Come on, I don't offer myself often—and trust me, you're gonna love me. I'm even tastier on the inside."

"That sounds fifty per cent weird, and fifty per cent downward creepy." Loki shook his head and folded his arms.

"Ow." Tony pursed his lips. "So I don't get any more vampire hickeys?"

"All Heavens above! There is no hickey, Tony." Loki buried his face in his hands.

"Pity. Fix it, then." Nonchalantly shrugging, Tony touched Loki's lips with his index. "I'm waiting, and I don't like waiting."

"Now _you_ shut up, Anthony Stark," muttered Loki. Cheeks bright pink and flushed, he did try his best to please Tony's sudden neck kink, although he felt absolutely ridiculous and ashamed all along. It was difficult not to when his whole body was screaming at him, 'WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS, STOP EMBARRASSING YOURSELF ALREADY'. Tony had the decency to close his eyes and throw his head backwards in apparent pleasure, and even moaned slightly.

When Loki couldn't take the shame anymore he moved away, still feeling as if his own blood were fire. But Tony grabbed his wrist. "Lokes. The remote."

"No. I earned it," protested Loki, holding the remote against his chest. "Over my dead body."

Then Tony seized the moment and pounced on Loki to replicate his tactics, achieving the same results. Loki let out a single exclamation and touched the delicate patch of skin where his shoulder and his neck met, his fingers finding that it was slightly sticky with Tony's saliva, his pounding heart making it throb.

"Nice. Let's just watch Black Mirror, that's pretty neutral." Tony began scrolling down Loki's To Watch list as if nothing had happened.

What made Loki freak out the most was that he had secretly enjoyed it.

"By the way, this morning on Twitter someone uploaded a fanart of us. Somehow it's gone viral already. The kid's sure a fine artist, but some comments are downward creepy. Get my phone if you wanna see it, I think I followed them. Their icon is a punk version of Princess Peach."

Good grace, did that make him a perv? Or a degenerate? Or a normal teenager?

"Loki, you're about to have a heart attack. Just so you know."

He couldn't quite decide.

"Jeez, Lokes, relax, I was just showing some love. But if you don't like it I won't do it tomorrow, or any other day. It's fine, really."

His words threw Loki off the flush.

"Tony..." Loki stared at his empty hands. "Tomorrow I'm flying to Iceland already."

Tony lowered his eyes. They had made a point of not mentioning Loki's departure for the whole afternoon, yet there they were. He dropped the remote on the bed between them, and sighed. "I know," he whispered. "And I don't want it to be tomorrow. Like, ever. I hate even the sound of it."

No one was really paying any attention to Black Mirror anyway. Tony turned the TV off, then kicked of his sneakers and pulled his hoodie off. Loki closed his eyes slowly, then did the same. "I want to sleep," he muttered in a thin voice, even though he knew it was a sin to sleep that night. But he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

With a sigh, Tony shifted on the bed until they were both under the linen sheets, then wrapped his arms around Loki and intertwined their fingers. "Sleep, then. I will look after you."

Loki closed his eyes. "Then who will look after _you_?"

"Please." He could feel Tony frowning. "I'm skilled enough to look after you _and_ myself."

But Loki was already drifting off into a troubled sleep, full of planes and unfamiliar faces.

* * *

It was still dark when everyone showed up at the airport. Even though Odin had suggested that Loki take the Allföðr private plane, to which Tony had suggestively added that he could in fact fly it within the law, Loki refused, and chose a regular flight instead. He didn't know if Tony had understood why. The more the time they spent together, the harder the separation would be. If Tony flew him to Iceland, maybe he wouldn't want to return to the States. For sure, Loki wouldn't want him to return.

"Well, son." Odin folded his arms across his chest, then undid the gesture and folded them again. "Here we are, finally."

"I can't believe that you're going away," Thor said sadly. "It's not _natural_. Since you came home you've always been there, walking up and down some corridor or taking up some table with your laptop. And now it will never be that way again."

"Thanks for making me cry, Thor." Loki wiped some tears off his eyes furiously. "Right the mood booster I needed."

"But it's not that bad," Thor went on, ignoring Loki's comment. "Because you will come home from time to time, and we will visit you. And Skype will always be there for us, no matter what."

"God bless Skype," added Tony. He was leaning against the wall, wearing the same rumpled clothes he had slept in. Loki couldn't quite read his expression, but overall he wasn't happy. "And private jets."

Heimdall cleared his throat. When everyone turned their heads to look at him, he shrugged and held his hands up, palms facing the ceiling. "Sorry, I needed to." All his luggage had been loaded but for the small backpack that rested against the wall, besides Tony's feet. If he hadn't been so overcome with the incoming goodbye, Loki would've been curious to know what was so important that he wouldn't let it go for the seven-hour flight.

"When you arrive," Thor said for the twelfth time, "call us. Nevermind the phone rate, because if you don't call us, I'm going to kill you. And the funerals are much more expensive than international phone calls, so consider yourself warned."

Odin snorted, then passed one arm over each of his sons' shoulders. "Come here, both of you. And Heimdall, also. Anthony, maybe you could take a picture of us?"

"Sure." Anthony drew his phone from his pocket in a single, fluid movement, and tapped on the screen a few times. "Smile, everyone. I want your best 'cheese!' faces." After a few snaps, he nodded approvingly and turned around to take a selfie. "I'll call this 'The Sad Goodbye Fellas Who Will Slaughter Loki If He Doesn't Call'. Sounds commercial enough, doesn't it."

"Honoured," said Loki. A moment after everyone's phone buzzed, and he didn't need to check the screen to know it was Tony. 

"Excuse me," said Heimdall. "Old codgers like me have bladders that get really sensible with these things. Be right back."

As he walked towards the nearest bathroom, Thor shook his head. "And he's only thirty-two. Wait 'till he gets near his jubilation."

When Heimdall returned some minutes after, whistling, there were no excuses left to go on postponing the unavoidable. Odin and Thor threatened him again before squeezing him so tight in a hug, he was almost sure he cracked a rib or two. Then they followed Heimdall to the jet, to make sure everything was correct before it took off.

Loki and Tony stared at each other. Even though Loki wanted to scream at Tony that he loved him and that he would miss him so much, all he could manage was a low, "Anthony."

"Yes?" Tony arched an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest. 

Before answering, Loki took a moment to marvel at how stunning he looked. Even wearing only a red bandana tied around his wrist, black T-shirt and jeans, and old sneakers, he was impressive. "I never really got a chance to call you by your name. Your full name, I mean."

"No, you did. But you were polite enough to call me Tony because I like it better." With a sigh, Tony walked up to Loki and hugged him, resting his cheek against Loki's. "Heck, I forgot you are taller than me. This is so un-Hollywood." Then he lowered his head. To Loki's surprise, he began kissing his neck and collar bone, carefully sucking his skin here and there. Soon Loki's legs began to shake badly, and as the airport faded around him and his brain stopped being able to think rationally, Loki closed his eyes and muttered a faint, 'uh'. What he muttered next wasn't as innocent.

Tony was at it for less than a minute, but to Loki it felt timeless. When Tony finally took a step backwards to look at him in the eye again, still holding him, he was a blushing mess, unable to stand without help. Even though he remotely remembered that this kind of thing used to make him feel lost and nervous, he simply wanted Tony to do it again and never stop this time. Then Tony broke the embrace, and Loki felt exposed and lost like he had been expecting. But not from the contact—rather from the absence of it.

Quick-handed, Tony rummaged in his sports bag until he found what he was looking for. Then he motioned for Loki to come closer, and pulled his wrist slightly so that Loki would sit down on the floor in front of him.

"Look." Tony held his phone up so that Loki could see his own neck, which showed several red marks splashed here and there on his pale skin. He opened his eyes wide.

"Holy..."

"They will turn purple soon," Tony warned. "In around ten minutes you will see them in all their glory. Hopefully your father won't be around, or else he'll kill me for profaning his son's neck. But hey, I got you something that might help."

"Arnica gel?" Loki raised a hand to rub the marks with the tips of his fingers. Somehow they didn't look terrible. They actually fascinated him.

"Ha!" Tony actually laughed. "That one was good. But no, I'm afraid you'll have to buy your own Arnica gel in case you want them gone faster." Then he gave Loki his phone and reached for whatever he had found inside his sports bag. It was an infinity scarf, the colour of Loki's eyes. Tony wrapped it around Loki's neck in two loops. "So that you ain't cold," he said finally in a very tiny voice. When Loki looked at him his eyes were glossy with tears.

"Oh, Tony." Loki leaned forwards to rest his head on his shoulder.

"Call me Anthony again, if you like. When it's you who says it, I hate it less."

"Anthony," Loki whispered in his ear. 

"I could say how much I'll miss you every day, or how miserable and brokenhearted I'll be without you, but that's nothing to write home about." Tony sniffed. "So just tell me something else until you have to go."

Loki chose to speak about when he had first been to the Duck Pond, and Thor had nearly drowned when he tried to catch a duck with his bare hands. Then he spoke about how he liked feeling the warm rays of sun on his skin when it was autumn, neither too cold nor too hot, and how freshmint chewing gum always made him think of bright blue, cloudless skies and lazy swimming-pool days. About how he had once found a bird with a broken wing under the window, and taken good care of it until the little thing was able to fly away. How Frigga used to take him to the swings near their house when he was little and didn't trust anyone in the house, until Loki began trusting her enough to let her kiss him goodnight. How Thor insisted on playing Twister with him when they were first met, although he was terrible at it, because he wanted Loki to open up even if it cost him a sprained ankle. How he nearly burnt his house down trying to bake a cake, with Heimdall, for Frigga's birthday. As he spoke he could see every memory in front of his eyes, all the laughter and the good moments. And he realised that he was crying again, but this time he wasn't weeping. He was just thanking everyone in his heart for having given him such times.

"Loki," Heimdall called him softly. Tony stopped rocking him in his arms. "It's time."

"Sure." Loki lowered his eyes, and pressed Tony's hands, which he had been holding, before letting go and standing up. "Everything in order?"

"Even the champagne, sir."

"Champagne?" Tony wrinkled his nose. "Hey, I want to fly to Iceland too."

"Whenever you want," Heimdall said. "We will welcome you with open arms, and a bottle of the best Reyka Vodka."

"Sounds damn well," Tony recognised. He picked up his sports bag from the floor. "It's a goodbye, then. Come here, Heimdall, mate." He looped an arm around Heimdall's shoulders, and patted his back. "I'll miss having someone to share the sass with."

"I will miss you too, sir." Heimdall patted Tony's sports bag. "Not many people nowadays can rhyme 'socks' with 'market stock' in the same blue joke." 

Humble, Tony bowed his head. "What can I say? It ain't easy, but someone's got to do it. Have a good flight."

Loki tried to draw one last smile for him. "Goodbye, Tony. Talk to you soon."

"T-T-Y-L, Lokes." Tony stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, looking very young suddenly.

Loki turned on his heels and walked towards the boarding gate, feeling empty and dizzy with loss already. But when he was about to trespass it, he heard the echoing of footsteps as Tony ran towards him to grab his wrist and spin him around and plant a firm kiss on his lips. He held Loki's face and pressed his mouth against Loki's with such rage and strength, Loki thought he might melt. He caressed Loki's teeth with his tongue one last time, and when they broke apart for dear oxygen, he kissed Loki's nose and forehead.

" _Now_ you can talk-to-you-soon me," Tony muttered. He let go and simply watched as Heimdall and Loki boarded the plane, and the gate closed behind them. 

He was a busy man, and he had many things that needed to be taken care of. Paperwork, a meeting, some sketches of new gadgets, an update for ALOYSIUS. Even considering whether he should simply develop a new IA, one he had decided would be named JARVIS and would be much less nagging than ALOYSIUS on Free WiFi areas. Still, he waited to see the plane as it took off and got lost in the morning sky.

* * *

Loki closed his eyes and felt the vibrations of the plane as it took off, and the odd sensation of going upwards as it gained height. Soon the plane was stable and flew horizontally, but he still didn't want to open his eyes. His lips still tickled from Tony's last kiss. But it wouldn't be the last, he told himself stubbornly when fresh tears menaced to fall from the corners of his eyes. They wouldn't allow that.

"Sir." Heimdall touched his shoulder carefully. "Although I know you are going through the negation phase, and I respect it very much, there is something I would like you to see."

"Kleenex? I believe I am allergic to sad goodbyes." With a snif, Loki opened his eyes. "Surprise me."

Just like Tony had done, Heimdall turned to fumble through his mysterious backpack. What he took out was a big scrapbook, with navy blue covers and a silver ribbon between the pages. The front cover was decorated with little drawings, quotes and symbols, all done with white and golden ink. Afraid to ruin in the slightest, Loki carefully opened it, and began going through the pages.

The first thing he saw was a dedication, written in what looked like Egyptian hieroglyphs and Loki recognised as Heimdall's handwriting. Conscious that he wouldn't be able to get through it without turning into a puddle of tears and feelings, Loki turned the page, and suddenly he was face to face with a big picture of him the first day Odin took him home. It had been Thor's doing, something quite obvious because he had chopped the upper part of everyone's head. Odin and Frigga were holding one of Loki's hands each, wearing gloves, and Heimdall bowed down to him respectfully in the doorway. Dressed in his best rags, Loki was staring at him blankly, his hair a tangled black mess. The upper corner of the picture had been taken up by Thor's finger.

Next were several tickets from the first time Heimdall and he had sneaked out of the house to buy sweets. Loki knew because that had been the first time he had ever had candyfloss. And he had hated it, but it had been so fun to get it. Besides the tickets were dry daisies, the kind Loki picked up every Saturday for Frigga until he realised that plants were also living things. 

Tickets for the theme park, bracelets from several concerts, business cards from Loki's favourite shops, old drawings, the wrappers of Loki's favourite candy, Pokémon cards from when Thor and he had obsessed over them, postcards from the different places they had been, and pictures, so many pictures. From his first day at school, from the musical they had done in ninth grade, from Christmas, from Sunday mornings at the Duck Pond, from family gatherings, from everyday life, from those times Thor, Heimdall and he had been bored enough to throw their Shameful Selfie Races, from when he had met Malala, from when they had gone to plays, or pics of him with friends, with family, alone, in the streets or in the middle of a field, smiling or distracted or not noticing the camera. 

It wasn't  just a scrapbook. It was Loki's life with the Allföðr family.

Several pages after came the first picture with Tony. Loki looked at the image, curious, because he didn't know who might have taken it. Loki was sitting in Tony's kitchen in front of doctor Bruce Banner, and both were staring at Tony as the latter tapped on the papers on the table and explained. That was the first time Loki had met him. He inhaled deeply and turned the page, only to find a few pieces of paper with notes from Tony's lessons, and the famous one with Tony's phone number and a '>:D'. Then there were pictures of Tony's car waiting for Loki to take him to school, of Loki blushing as Tony smirked, of them dozing off on the couch watching whatever on the TV. Tony dressed up for the business meeting where he had officially met Odin, and shaking the Allföðr family man's hand. Tony hugging Loki. And then, Loki staring at his wardrobe helplessly before their first official date, and Loki and Thor and Tony fighting to death in Thor's PS4, and Tony having dinner with the Allföðr brothers at a McDonald's, and Odin and Tony discussing a basketball match, Tony's cheeks painted with the colours of the Lakers. 

The last pictures were from that same morning. So Heimdall hadn't gone to the bathroom, after all.

"You look great in the selfie," said Heimdall pointed out softly. "As for the other picture, you look horrible. I just included it because I look a little like Morgan Freeman."

"What's with Morgan Freeman?" Loki sniffed again.

"Well, you know, he's everywhere." Heimdall shrugged. "Since Bruce Almighty, he has stayed omnipresent like the Lord. I couldn't just leave him out of the album, could I?"

Loki looked down at the scrapbook in his hands and hugged it like a teddy bear. "No," he gasped. "I... Heimdall, thank you. This is so beautiful."

"But it is not finished," Heimdall warned. "See? There are many blank pages ahead. So you can put there pictures of the glaciers, or whatever we find in Iceland."

"With the children," Loki suggested. 

"With whoever you want." Heimdall rubbed his shoulder. "You will see, Loki, everything will be alright. And if it is not, I seem to recall you have a boyfriend who knows how to fix things."

Against his own will, Loki smiled. "He does."

He stared down at the selfie one last time. Then he closed the scrapbook carefully, and as Heimdall sat besides him, he offered his friend an earphone, chose his Favourites playlist, and closed his eyes.


	6. Heat Convection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love it when my eye messes up with my writing schedule by swelling up and hurting like hell, except for the fact that actually I hate it.

"Well, sir, today is the day. From one to ten, how unready are you?" Busy as he was speaking, Heimdall didn't notice a speed bump on the road on time, and the car shook from side to side. "Ouch. Sorry, my bad."

"Ouch indeed," said Loki, rubbing his nap. "Eight and a half. Maybe eight point seventy-five."

"Could be worse." Heimdall gracefully came to a halt as they approached the STOP that ushered in an intersection. "Around one point twenty-five worse. If you want some advice, which I am guessing you will be paying little attention to anyways, remember that they are only kids. They will not judge you."

"Precisely because they are _kids_ ," sighed Loki, "they will be judging on me. Trust me, I have been an orphan too. It just comes  naturally, judging grown-ups."

"Oh. So you judged me?" Whistling, Heimdall turned on the indicator and manoeuvred. "I'm feeling so hurt right now. May I ask what where your thoughts on me?"

"Um..." Loki shifted on the passenger's seat. The safety belt was tight against his abdomen. "Well, in my defense, I had never been outside Reykjavik, and in the streets..."

"My skin colour freaked you out?" Heimdall sounded amused.

"I am sorry." Ashamed, Loki lowered his eyes. "I had only met one black person before you, and she was an old lady who would sit at my grandfather's nursing home and speak to people who did not exist. Now I know she suffered from schizophrenia, but back then, I did not."

"Hm."

"Really! Prejudice is the love child of ignorance and misunderstanding of the unknown, Heimdall, I know it well. When I met you, or Jika, or Aadab, or Mateo and Darran, I understood that. Even I was stared at, just because I was hanging out with them, and barely spoke a too-formal English. Just..."

With a huge grin, Heimdall blew the horn at a Mercedes who had tried to ignore a give way signal. Loki stopped speaking, and covered his ears with his hands while he groaned. For all Heavens' sake, and he thought Thor's old Chevy had a horrible claxon.

"Preferences, preferences." Heimdall happily patted on the steering wheel as the other driver flipped him the bird, ignoring him. "Different people, but the same almightiness that puts them above preferences."

"Nice thought, but next time I'd rather not bleed my ears out," muttered Loki.

"I will try to take it into account. Anyway, although I must reckon that hearing you justify your ten-year-old self's attitudes, I must ask you to calm down. Facing a crowd of children bearing that face of deer caught in the headlights cannot be good for your health. And anyway, I do not care. What matters is not that you had racist thoughts, but rather that you have overcome them and even fight to eradicate them. _Et voilà,_ here we are."

As Heimdall parked, Loki observed the building that rose proudly on the other side of the street, like a titan defying the sky. The orphanage had been built in the style of a medieval fortress, and while it did look like one, it was obvious that Odin had made an effort to make it homely. Several rows of multicolour pennants hung over the windows, below which were pots full of flowers. The garden seemed to be regularly taken care of, for the emerald grass was neatly cut, and here and there sprung ancient trees that slowly converged into a forest, behind the building. Inside, Loki could see several little houses, gnome-like, which made him smile. When he and Heimdall drew closer, the first shaking and the second whistling, Loki could see there were small drawings in chalk all over the lower part of the stone walls.

Here and there on the grass sprouted several toys, from dolls and footballs to a wooden bow with arrows that had suction cups at their ends. Loki tripped over a red diabolo, and suddenly he had fallen on his butt and felt like all the pain in the world was concentrating there. To make it better, the two sticks needed to play with the diabolo had been right in the spot where his hand had landed, so now it was on fire. Unfazed, Heimdall bowed down and took Loki's hand. It was beginning to swell already.

"Hm, a bad beginning. Maybe you have sprained your wrist, sir." Heimdall helped him to his feet, then rubbed Loki's swollen palm carefully. When the latter howled, he let go and nodded. "Scratch the maybe, because you have one-hundred and one percent sprained your wrist."

"Wonderful," Loki muttered. Right then, his phone buzzed, and when he pulled it out with his right hand, which felt awkward, he saw it was Tony. _Luck luck with the little Gizmos_ , he said. _Just don't wet them, and it should be OK._

Above them the sky had been blue, but grey clouds had quickly taken over and a storm was already on its way. Heimdall looked at it with a critical eye, then turned to look at Loki. "We should get inside, sir. We have five minutes top before it rains."

"Right. So now I have to ring the bell." Loki breathed in deeply, then walked over to the door and did it. Almost instantly a woman opened, and excitedly motioned for them to get in.

"Quick, quick! Us waiting for you sir. Quick or else it rains before we get all your luggage." Her words were sharpened by a thick accent, although she spoke slowly enough for Loki to understand everything. Her hair had been tied up in a bun at some point, but now stray locks of white hair fell over her face like vines. Even though she wasn't any granny yet, she was old enough that her age had begun punishing the corners of her eyes and the creases in her forehead and cheeks. She somehow reminded Loki of Frigga, and the thought of it made him close his eyes for a second.

Had Frigga been at the airport, what would she have told him?

"Storm come," the woman added, clearly struggling with the words. "Krakkarnik eru... Kids..." In the end she let out a slight grunt, frustrated, and pointed at the stairs behind her. "No out."

As Loki and Heimdall entered the hall, she nervously stretched her hands out. Loki looked at her for a second, before Heimdall cleared his throat and gave her his coat. After the man metaphysically elbowed him with a glance, Loki did the same. She seemed almost relieved as she hung them inside a big wardrobe. "Luggage. It..."

" _Ég tala íslensku_." Loki interrupted her gently and offered a warm smile. " _Hann gerir það ekki, en ég mun þýða fyrir hann. Ég er Loki Laufeyson, Óðinsson, og hann er Heimdall vinur minn._ "

For a second, the woman didn't answer. She simply stared at him, her mouth and eyes wide open. Then she gave him a smile, too, and bowed her head respectfully. " _Mitt nafn er Berglind, ég er húseigandi Vernda Börnin. Ef þú gefur mér skó þinn, herra?_ "

"Oh! Right, I had forgotten." Loki bowed down to untie his worn sneakers, and when Heimdall stared at him as if he were nuts, he informed him, "Heimdall, no shoes. Here in Iceland no one wears them at home, or inside anyone's house."

"But I thought those where the Japanese," said Heimdall, amused, as he took his moccasins off. "Interesting people, these Icelanders." Then he stared at his shoes, and put them on again. "Sorry, but I must go get our luggage. And I will not risk stepping on a Lego by going barefoot."

"Luggage?" Berglind ducked her head. "Me get luggage."

" _Heimdall vill hjálpa þér_ ," Loki explained. "I said you would like to help her," he translated for his friend, who frowned.

"Who knows. You could have said anything."

"You will have to trust me on this one." Loki shrugged, then turned and explained to Berglind that the three of them would be going outside to carry it indoors. They had only brought their handbags, thus there were four suitcases to go. Three were Heimdall's.

As they hurried towards the orphanage, the first raindrops began to fall. Berglind gritted her teeth, and started walking at a speed beyond humanly possible. In no more than a few seconds she was already taking off her shoes, and gesturing for them to come in quickly. While she guided them towards their respective rooms, dragging one of Heimdall's purple suitcases, Loki looked around and marvelled at the wonder that was Vernda Börnin.

Stone walls had been restored from their ruinous state, and so had the magnificent stairs in the middle of the hall. From every wall hung tapestries retelling Norse myths, which Loki remembered had been crafted at Odin's request by locals: Yggdrasil, Skaði surrounded by wolves in the middle of a blizzard, Baldr caressing a flower, Ask and Embla holding hands. For the first time he realised that it was curious enough to have not only an adoptive family, but also himself, named after mythological gods. Of course he had met several Thors in his life, but all except one had been either Boxers or Rottweilers.

Several torches flanked the tapestries, which would have been dangerous if they had been lit with actual fire. Instead, there were fine-crafted flames made of hollow plastic and lightbulbs inside, which must be a pain to replace when they fused, but managed to give enough light so that no corner was left in penumbra. Having few but enough furniture, the rooms didn't look empty, or sad. Instead they looked spacious and sober. Overall there was a certain kind of magic in the air, like anything could happen the moment the night fell upon the place and gave it the sense of all being possible that only the night can convey.

When Berglind entered a corridor in the third of all three floors, Heimdall sweating stoically without a word and Loki openly panting, the first clap of thunder roared outside. The storm had finally come, and it didn't seem too eager to show mercy on them. Loki's room was right in front of Heimdall's, and they were big enough that Loki could most surely ride a bike around without any problem. Something that Tony, most probably, would do if he were there.

If only Tony _were_ there with him. As Berglind was busy trying to open the door to Heimdall's room, for she couldn't remember which key it was, Loki pulled his suitcase inside his room and looked around. Stone walls covered with green tapestries, a bureau besides the door with two lamps to give enough light all across its width, a wardrobe big enough to take up most of the right wall, waiting to be filled. On the left wall, a chimney with two armchairs facing it. On the floor was an enormous carpet which looked quite scratchy, the same creamy colour as the thick velvet curtains. The bed was against the opposite wall, big enough to throw a party on it, flanked by two windows.

Everything was so different from what he had known in the States, and from what he had expected to find in an orphanage, that he had to sit down on one armchair and let it all sink in. Odin hadn't just built an orphanage. Odin had built an effing medieval castle in the middle of Iceland, a country that had no castles whatsoever anyway, and he had sent him to live inside the castle, instead of allowing him to just rent a flat and take care from the distance. As Loki hadn't finished his university degree, he would be taking his studies in Psychology anyway on his own, as he had signed up in a distance learning university. So what he was facing was an indefinite amount of time taking care of the children and their paperwork and some of the main enterprise's during the day—because Odin wanted him to be the chief representative of his corporation in Europe, as Loki obviously had an indecent amount of spare time—, and studying during the night, and somewhere inbetween finding the time to keep his relationship with Tony alive, sleeping, and feeling miserable every now and then.

Sounded like vacation.

With a sigh, he rose from the armchair and began undoing the case, putting his clothes inside the wardrobe and his books on the shelf above the bureau. His hand hurt, so he had to do it with the other one. All his tech was still downstairs, so he couldn't use his laptop just yet. Luckily enough, he had brought his phone charger, and there was WiFi in the orphanage. While he waited for the dead battery to get at least a 15% charged, he sank his nose inside the infinity scarf that he hadn't taken off yet. Tony's present. It smelled like home, and as homesick as it made him feel, he was thankful to have it with him. Outside the storm raged on, growing worse, but he closed his eyes and imagined that he was simply watching it with Tony and a mug of hot coffee in his hands.

"Sir," said Berglind in Icelandic, knocking on his door. With a sigh, Loki opened his eyes again and nodded. "Normally I would introduce you to the kids, sir, but some are very afraid of the storm. If you would wait until it goes away..."

"Sure," he said, and offered what tried to be a reassuring smile. Then he hesitated a second before adding, "actually, could I meet those who are afraid of the storm?"

Berglind startled, as she clearly hadn't been expecting such an interest in the kids. "Um, I guess so," she said slowly. "I must prepare dinner, but I can call them if you like."

"Yes, please. If there is any kind of... Living room, I would like you to show me, then have them meet me there."

Playing with her keys, Berglind sighed. "They are the twins, and Saga. See, Stian and Tyra's parents died in the streets a few months ago, and they had no family that could take care of them. Somehow they had managed to wander in here, under a terrible storm—the worst of the last years. Tyra started knocking on the door hysterically and screaming that we let them in, but in the seven months that they have been here, Stian has never pronounced a word. It's always Tyra who answers for him, and even she quietens whenever I ask them what happened with their parents. She will only tell me that they're dead.

"As for Saga... When Saga ended up here, years ago, it wasn't because her parents didn't want, or couldn't afford to have her. You will see when you meet her, but Saga isn't... _Normal._ "

"Normal? What does that mean?"

Berglind chewed on her lower lip. "It isn't only because she's half-deaf, or because she's albino. Saga... _Sees things_. She will often spend her time speaking to thin air, or chasing mice around the orphanage when there are none. Sometimes she says her friends are sad that we always ignore them as if they didn't exist. Sometimes she cries for hours, and when asked she will only say that they're coming for her. Things like those. When there's a storm, it worsens."

Loki lowered his gaze, feeling unsteady all of a sudden. From what Berglind had told him, Saga had problems, problems that were bigger than normal kids'. The child's tale had inspired him such sorrow, he wanted to see her right away, and assure her that everything would be alright somehow. When he was little, he had wished for someone who could help him when the nights were cold and the streets unforgiving, until Odin had caught him trying to pickpocket on him and decided to adopt him. Now he had to pay that debt.

* * *

He was watching the flames in the living-room's fireplace. Outside the wind howled like a pack of starving wolves, and the rain hit the windows with strength. After bandaging his wrist, Heimdall had insisted on going outside to park the car in a safer place than the middle of the streets, and was most surely risking his life just so that his little baby wouldn't get any wetter. There was a garage in the orphanage, which Heimdall had solemnly sworn he would get in, or die trying. So Loki was alone, sitting on the floor and waiting for the three children. In his hands was his phone, and he was Skyping with Tony. It must be around three in the morning in the States, but Tony looked as fresh as ever.

"...So I tell him, 'Steve, dude, you gotta be kiddin' me, no one friggin' wears that anymore', and he flips me the bird. Since when does Steve Rogers flip anyone the bird? God almighty, everything's falling apart. So, how's it with the kids?"

"Well, I am waiting to meet three of them." Loki turned his phone, so that Tony could see the storm outside.

Tony whistled, impressed. "Whoa! Quite a storm, eh?"

"Yes." Loki cleared his throat. "These three children are afraid of storms. I imagined if I meet them now, they will be too busy being nervous about me to worry about the storm. Berglind told me a little about them already, and oh, Tony, you should have heard her. They have problems, serious ones. One of them, Saga—I am afraid she might be suffering from schizophrenia."

"Fuck." Tony ran a hand through his curls. "That's some serious shit for a kid, Lokes."

"I know," he nodded. Distractedly he scratched the carpet he was sitting on. "Besides, it turns out she is half deaf, and albino. The other two, they are twins, and their parents died some months ago. One of them, Stian, will not speak. No one knows whether he is mute, or he just does not want to."

On the other end of the world, Tony lowered his gaze. "Heck," he said finally. "Everything was so easy just yesterday. I had you in my arms, you had me in your bed, and the world was a wonderful place. Now I don't know what to say or do to help you."

Behind him a green light turned on. It was Tony's clock, announcing it was 4 AM already. Loki felt a stab of guilt. "Just listening to me helped," he assured him. "Really. Your voice calms me."

"Maybe..." Tony rubbed his nape. "Maybe when I visit, you can introduce them to me. I would really like to meet this Saga kid. She sounds like badass potential."

Loki laughed. Any other person would have sounded superficial and cruel, but Loki knew Tony better than that. He was simply trying to make it better by making it less serious. "Maybe I will," he confirmed. "But I think they all speak only Icelandic, so beware."

"Ice-le-what?" Tony frowned. "Seriously, you Europeans have a serious problem with finding a _lingua franca_. Cultural wealth, I get it, but it's hell when one's trying to communicate with you guys. What's wrong with English?"

"I believe every country in Europe has English taught as the second language," explained Loki, "together with French and German as the third, mostly. But these children are young, and I do not know yet whether they went to school or not. I have not gone through their files yet."

"Let's just pray they speak English, or else I'll be sad."

"Don't worry, I can translate Icelandic for you." Loki shrugged. "I already do for Heimdall."

"Seriously?" Tony patted his forehead. "I keep on forgetting the extent of your awesomeness. True, you're Icelandic. For some reason I hadn't added up two plus two. You still remember how to speak?"

" _Já. Þegar ég fór til Bandaríkjanna, gerði Odin mér viss um að ég myndi ekki gleyma móðurmálinu mínu_." With a grin, Loki allowed himself to enjoy Tony's whistling.

"Holy..." Shaking his head, Tony yawned. As he stretched his arms above his head, his T-shirt rose enough that Loki could see his flat stomach. "I want to kiss you right now. Probably not a feasible thing, but I thought you should know. It's not that I don't want to kiss you about all the time," he added quickly, "but I've just found out the hard way that Icelandic lowkey turns me on. Not so lowkey when it's you speaking it."

The blush that took over Loki's cheeks, which he could see onscreen, was slightly inappropiate for meeting children.

"Sir! We are here!" warned Berglind.

"See? She doesn't make me horny at all." Tony crossed his arms. "Whatever she said?"

Coughing, Loki tried to think of relaxing things to cool down. Glaciers, rivers flowing, videos of kittens. "They are coming already. Sorry, but I have to go."

"Luck luck, Lokes!" Tony blew him a kiss. "Oh, and that scarf looks so great. Whoever gave it to you is a genious, don't you think?"

"Love you, sleep well" Loki blurted.

"Love you more, I will. And remember, don't take it off until your neck heals or else you'll have to give the children either a pathetic lie, or _the_ talk." Tony stretched his arms towards Loki, and suddenly the screen went black. Automatically, a message that Tony had disconnected popped up. He set the phone aside, and kept of thinking of relaxing things while watching the flames, holding his bandaged hand, until the children entered the room.

* * *

Stian and Tyra held one of Berglind's hands each, and both stared at Loki with identical icy blue eyes. Both had heart-shaped faces, a mole under their right eye, and the approximate same height. But Tyra's golden mane was long and stunning, whereas Stian's hair was a pixie-cut. Nonetheless the mistrust in their eyes was the same.

Behind them walked Saga, whom Loki recognised instantly for her niveous hair and skin. She seemed to be somewhere else entirely, as she was looking at the ceiling and smiling at something he couldn't see. Then she ducked her head as if listening, and began whispering. Suddenly she moved her hand up to her face, and began patting her cheek.

"Sir," Berglind said. "The children. These are Tyra—" Tyra waved at him shyly, and produced a weak 'Hi', "—, Stian—" Stian pressed his lips together, "—and Saga. Children, this is Loki Odinson, the new head of the orphanage. He wanted to meet you in person."

"Actually, my surname is Laufeyson," Loki said with a smile. "Odin is not my biological father, he adopted me when I was around ten years old. Before he did, I lived in the streets with my mother and her boyfriend, and sometimes visited my grandfather."

Eyes wide open, Saga seemed to focus on him. Tyra looked at Stian, who glanced back at her.

"Why d'you wanna meet us?" Tyra asked finally. She spoke quickly, as if she feared the words would melt in her tongue if she didn't say them out loud fast enough. "No'ne likes 's."

It was a dangerous question. Loki realised that the wrong answer could lead to the children shutting down, so he thought long. "Because I am sure I will," he said in the end. "Not many liked me, either."

Tyra looked at her brother again before slowly letting go of Berglind's hand and walking towards Loki. She sat on the floor, like Loki had, far away from him. "Why sh'd we tr'st you?"

Again, Loki took his time to answer. "You do not have to. At least, not right away." Then he scratched his cheek. "But hopefully you will, someday. I would very much like to know the three of you."

"Grown-ups don' wanna know 's. We're weir'."

"Weird is not always bad." Loki smiled. "Most of the time, it means 'special'. Anyway, today I wanted to ask you something. You have all the right in the world to say no, okay?"

Slowly, Stian let go of Berglind's hand too and walked up to his sister, sitting down so close to her, there was barely any separation between the two of them. The housekeeper looked stunned, as if she couldn't quite believe what her eyes saw. Most probably she couldn't, Loki guessed. Behind her, Saga was still staring at nowhere. But now she looked serious.

"Go 'head." Tyra leaned towards her brother protectively.

"Would you watch the chimney with me? I have always found it relaxing when there is a storm, and I do not really like storms."

Stian tensed visibly, but Tyra grabbed his hand and muttered something in his ear. Slowly he nodded, so Tyra stood up and helped him to his feet, then led him towards Loki. They didn't sit right next to him, but they were close enough for Loki to know that, at least a little, they did trust him. Jumping on her left leg, Saga approached him too. She stopped right in front of Loki, and looked at him in the eyes like he was some kind of curious insect she had never seen before. Then she kicked his legs.

"Open," she demanded. Then she looked through the window, staring at the storm, and her face contorted in worry. "Open!"

Loki obediently stretched his legs in front of him, then opened them. Saga fell to her knees, and crawled to his lap quickly, where she curled up like a cat. She was shaking like a leaf, frightened.

"Can I touch your arm?" Loki asked politely.

"They are here," Saga said, her voice thin and little. "They are here for me don't let them take me don't let them I'M NOT YOURS!" She clutched Loki's jumper so tight, her fingers dug through the knitting. "I'M NOT YOURS, I'M NOT! GO AWAY!"

Loki breathed in sharply, panicking for a second. Whatever Saga was screaming at he couldn't see, and he couldn't know how to fight it, either. The little girl shook violently, and began sobbing softly.

"Tell them to go away...," she cried.

Gently, with infinite care, Loki wrapped her arms around her little body, careful with his hand, and rubbed her back. "Go away," he said with a voice as strong as he could. "I do not want you here! Away!" He went on shouting until Saga calmed down. Then he dared sneak a peek at Tyra and Stian.

Both were staring at him, but it wasn't a cold gesture like before. Instead, they looked approving, unfazed by Saga's crisis. Behind them, Berglind looked like she might drop dead any moment.

"In all these years...," she murmured. Then she shook her head. "Excuse me, but I need to go help in the kitchen. Sir, when dinner is ready, I will call you." She stepped towards the door, as if to leave, but before doing so she turned to look at him and shook her head again. "Maybe you can help her," she said. "For real."

"I hope I can," Loki answered. Saga touched his bandaged hand with hers, and Tyra nodded approvingly.

And then Berglind left them, Loki and three children watching the dancing flames while a storm roared outside.


	7. Angular Momentum (pt.I)

Despite the success of his first encounter with Saga, Tyra, and Stian, Loki didn't have it easy with the rest of the children. Around thirty inhabited Vernda Börnin—which was a worryingly high number. Loki had taken the time to study the files on every kid, and most of them had been in the orphanage for longer than one year. Two had been left in front of the door a few days after being born, so they had never known anything besides orphanhood; the rest had been different ages when they were sacked from their homes, or abandoned, or when they lost their parents. But all were little, and there was only one child above eleven in Vernda Börnin. His name was Alecksandar, and he was always alone. Loki tried his best to approach him, but all the kid seemed to want in the world was to be left alone.

"So that you won't hurt me," he snapped at Loki when the latter gently asked why Alecksandar wouldn't at least listen to him.

Every story was painful, for every one of them ended in Vernda Börnin, after all. But some were particularly horrible. Alecksandar had lost his home when his parents overdosed in front of him. He was roughly nine when he saw them die. Berglind explained that he had almost been adopted once, but when his soon-to-be foster family came over to meet him, after months of paperwork and international legal stuff, the woman discovered that she was pregnant. They cancelled on him soon, and Alecksandar never heard from them again.

Berglind had also told him how that was the last straw for the boy, who shut down the rest of the world after the French couple gave him up. "The days after everything happened," she told Loki, "oh, he was like a walking corpse. He barely ate at all, he spent most of the day sleeping and having nightmares, he refused to speak to anyone. Maybe it was just a silly game for them, playing mummies and daddies with a kid, but it broke his spirit."

Fortunately most of the other stories were much less horrible. Still, no child was smiling in the pictures on their files.

Of course, Loki had spent some extra time researching on Saga, and Tyra and Stian. Saga had been much easier to investigate, as she had undergone several checkups for two failed adoption attempts. What Loki already knew was that she suffered from albinism, was half-deaf, and struggled with schizophrenia. Informs on the latter were long and full of technicisms, but Loki stayed up deciphering them until he understood her story. It wasn't frequent to find a schizophrenic child, but Saga had turned out to be the unlucky one-in-a-million.

Since she was very little, Saga had shown delays in language and social skills. Classified as disruptive, stubborn, and defiant towards authority by her parents, several psychologists had insisted initially that they wait, it's just a phase she's going to outgrow soon. But Saga's problems hadn't lessened as she grew up—if only, they had worsened. When she started going to the playschool, she had great difficulties making, and keeping, friends. Soon the children started to shun the girl who couldn't stop looking around nervously and talking about people who were not there in confusing, baby-like blabber. Word salads were common when speaking to her, and not even teachers could figure how to approach the little girl without her accusing them, in their high-pitched voice, of wanting to harm her. She moved too much, and spoke too little. She was unbalanced, and from sheer tiredness, her parents ended up dropping her at Vernda Börnin. Justice had prosecuted them for child abandonment, and Saga had still ended up alone. Now she was eight, extremelly intelligent, and there was no adoption in sight for her. 

Then there were Tyra and Stian. One day they had simply appeared at the door of the orphanage, both covered in blood that wasn't theirs, and Stian already refusing to speak. Tyra had only said that they needed a place to stay, that they wouldn't cause trouble, and he had stood besides her with his mouth closed and his gaze lost. Berglind remembered the look on his face clearly. "He was pale like a ghost, hollow like a spectre. Poor boy has never recovered from whatever befell them." The blood wasn't theirs, insisted Tyra, and Stian and she were very good. so there was no need for a medical checkup. They could clean, they could cook. Please let them stay. And Berglind let them stay.

The twins had been six-year-olds when that happened. Now they were nine-year-olds, and still refused to talk about what had happened to them so that they had ended up covered in blood.

"Most probably, something that led to Stian never speaking again," had pointed out Heimdall. Now he spent a lot of time helping Berglind out with everything she usually did alone, from buying the groceries to domestic chores to organising the children to helping wash the youngest ones. Still, he found enough time to remain Loki's best friend, and he currently gave him a hand with the children's files.

"Quite obviously," said Loki. "Children do not simply stop talking one day."

"But his sister will tell us nothing." Heimdall sighed. "How can we help them, Loki?"

"I am afraid that is not the question." Throwing his head backwards, Loki stared at the ceiling. "The question is, do they want to be helped?"

* * *

Loki had been in the orphanage for around two months already when Tyra knocked on his door. It had been a long and exhausting day, for Loki was trying to arrange a trip to a cinema nearby and the paperwork was hell. Alecksandar had announced that he wouldn't be going, and there were two three-year-old children who would be staying as well for obvious reasons. That left Heimdall and Loki alone with twenty-seven kids whose attitudes varied from wild excitement, to panic.

"Listen to me, Maria." Loki crouched besides one of the older girls, who was sitting alone against the wall while they waited for the bus he had hired. "If you want to come, you can. But if you do not want to, you can stay, too. We will not force you to do anything, okay?"

"I want to go," she said, her voice quivering. "But it makes me really nervous. I've never been to the cinema before."

"Never?" If his memory served him right, Maria had entered Vernda Börnin a few months before he moved to Iceland, and she was ten. "Well, then I can give you a tip. Would you like to hear?"

Maria nodded. Carefully, Loki used his thumbs to wipe away her tears.

"Go to the bathroom before the film starts. Many people just sit and wait while the trailers show, eating all the popcorn, and then they feel the urge to pee when the heroes are saving the day, or whatever. We will look for them as soon as we arrive."

"And we can buy popcorn?" 

Loki nodded. "Liquorice too. Heimdall would never forgive me if we watched a film without liquorice."

Mouth wide open, Maria slowly smiled. "Popcorn!" Then she gave Loki a quick hug before running off to tell her friend, Jakobe.

"Seems like you're getting along with them just fine," said someone in English from behind Loki. He turned around to find Frey and Freya Njordsen beaming at him, their smiles an identical shade of white. Freya, stunning in a pink jumper and ankle boots, kissed him on the right cheek, and Frey, casual in his thug leather jacket, on the left. 

"Popcorn is on us," added Frey. "Dude, I can't wait to watch... Wait, what are we watching, again?"

Confused, Loki ducked his head. "We?"

"For God's sake, Loki." Freya laughed, and opened her arm towards the children. "It's Heimdall and you, and thirty kids. Are you insane? Of course it's a 'we'. You clearly need help."

"Twenty-seven," he pointed out. "And they are really nice children, so you do not have..."

"Shut up and take our help," said Frey. "Besides, I'm a sucker for Hotel Transilvania 1 and 2H. Luck trying to get rid of me today."

The twins turned around and smiled at the children, who were looking at them quietly. Most smiled back, but Loki noted that Saga and Stian didn't. In fact, and right in front of the twins, Saga walked up to Loki and stretched out her arms, demanding attention. Immediately he bent down and let her crawl onto his back, where she buried her face in his shoulder.

"Why are Them coming too," she whispered, close enough to Loki's ear. "Them I don't like."

"Oh, no, the Them do not know yet?" asked Loki, switching to Icelandic. "My bad, I forgot to warn them. The Them are not invited. Just you and I, okay? You sit with me, and we watch the film together. Alright?"

"But tell Them not coming," she said softly, pointing at Loki's feet. "Them want to ride you with me and Them are laughing at me."

"Hey," Loki said sternly to the nothingness at his feet. "Shut up, or else I will have to take serious action."

"Maybe you can translate that for me?" A kiss was planted on Loki's cheek. "Hey, sweetheart."

When Saga looked at Tony, she laughed. "He I like." Loki almost dropped her.

Two months after Loki last saw him, Tony looked as attractive as usual. Even though the Van Dyke beard he had begun to grow wasn't Loki's favourite, he still made him melt into a little puddle of feelings and nervousness. Before his old insecurities took over and ruined the moment, Loki leaned forward and gave Tony a quick peck on the lips—not even remotely enough, but he didn't want to get too invested with Saga on his back, in case she felt uncomfortable. With her he never knew, but he tried to guess.

"Ow, only that? Disappointing." Tony pouted, a hand on his chest.

"What are you doing here?" Loki's breath faltered at Tony's smile. "I thought you were on a business... _Oh._ "

"Not the brightest colour of the rainbow," observed Frey. Amused, Freya elbowed him.

"You are my first and most important business." With a wink, Tony high-fived Saga. "I thought you knew that, but seems like I'll have to remind you. Do these kids speak English?, because then maybe I should cut the innuendo."

"Most do not," explained Loki. "At least, not fluently. Only what they have learned at school, but not at all enough."

"Cool then, I'll keep it up." With a mischievous smile, Tony poked Loki's cheek.

* * *

"The Them." Growing restless, Saga bounced on Loki's back. "The-Them the-Them the-Them Them-the Them-the."

"Ouch! Sorry, Saga, I forgot." Again, Loki looked down to the floor. "If you do not shut up and go away, I will make sure you _never_ have Súkkulaðirúsínur again. I mean it!"

When Saga clapped happily, Loki knew it had worked.

Right then the bus arrived. It was a white mini-bus, the same that took the children to school and back to the orphanage every day. Loki walked up to the door and, as it opened with a hissing sound, he began calling the children's names in alphabetical order, making sure that no-one was left behind. Saga remained on his back for the whole proccess, and when he called her name, she stuck her finger inside her mouth before sticking it into Loki's ear. 

"Agh! Saga!"

She laughed happily, then kissed his cheek. Somehow she had discovered that, when she did that, Loki couldn't stay angry at her for long. He never could.

When he finished calling the children, he let Heimdall, Frey, Freya, and Tony in. The latter waited for the rest to get inside the bus, then gave Loki a Breakfast at Tiffany's kind of kiss. Respectful, the driver simply cleared his throat after the first ten seconds.

"We might be late, sir," he warned Loki. 

Against Loki's lips, Tony said, "Let me guess, this handsome man says we're going to be late." When Loki nodded, he pulled away and jumped inside the mini-bus, sitting besides Heimdall. Trying to catch his breath, Loki put Saga down and helped her into the bus, then got in himself and apologised to the driver, Hans. Hans laughed, patted his shoulder, and revved up the engine before incorporating to the road. 

Loki helped Saga fasten her seat belt, then stood on his knees on the seat and faced the rest of the children, who chattered quietly. "Seat belts, everyone!"

Tony rose his hand and said, exaggerating his American accent, "What, Dad?" The children snickered, and Loki shook his head, smiling.

"Seat belt you too, Tony."

When he sat down, Saga tugged at his sleeve. She nodded towards Tony, and tilted her head to the side.

"Oh, he is Tony," Loki explained. "From the United States. He does not speak Icelandic, so if you want to tell him anything, you tell me and I translate. Alright?"

"Who?" She pointed at Loki.

"He is my..." Explaining this to an eight-year old made him feel weird. He cleared his throat. "My boyfriend," he said. "We are together. Well, he does not live here in Iceland, but as you see, he visits me."

"And you him?"

Even though Saga meant nothing but what she had asked, and was only curious, Loki felt his chest clutch as he proccessed the question. Because, indeed, he hadn't visited Tony nor his family yet. Odin and Thor had dropped by a month after he settled down, and Odin went to the orphanage every two weeks—Saga called him 'Grandpa Odin' already. But he hadn't returned to the States.

"I am busy here," he said finally. "It would not be responsible if I left you all alone for a week to go to the States."

"But Heimdall and Berglind and Hans," said Saga. "We are never alone. You can go."

Feeling his heart skip a beat, Loki could only offer her a tiny smile. "Yeah."

"You will cry?" Saga rose her little hands and covered Loki's eyes with them. "No sad."

"No, I..." But he was, indeed, about to cry. And it was a fairly good day, so he shouldn't be feeling so blue. For once it wasn't cloudy, he children were going to the cinema for the first time in their lives, they were excited about getting popcorn, afterwards they would order pizza at the orphanage so that Alecksandar and Berglind could have some too, he was getting help from the Njordsens and Tony besides Heimdall, he was getting _Tony_. Instead of appreciating how lucky he was, though, there he was, realising what a shitty partner and son and brother he had been. 

It always came down to feeling like he wasn't doing enough, that he could do more and be better but he wasn't doing _enough_. He bit his lip until he tasted blood, but still the physical pain couldn't distract him from the pressure inside his chest. In the end he was only a teenager, and not a particularly clever one. There was no way he could do what he was supposed to, and keep everything under control.

" _Hush, little baby, don't say a word_ ," sung Saga. " _Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird._ "

"Sorry?" Loki put his hands over hers over his eyes, and gently lowered them to look at her. She stubbornly held her chin up, and shook her hands.

"Mamma sang for me," Saga said. "When I was scared and not slept."

"She was British?" 

"Yes," Saga said. "And she voice was beautiful like her and like the sky. No be sad, pabbi."

"I... am your pabbi?" 

"Yes," she repeated. "Pabbi Loki."

Breathing in slowly then slowly out, Loki stared into the little girl's light grey eyes. "Pabbi," he repeated. _Dad_. 

"And pabbi Tony?" Saga frowned, then shook her head and rested it against Loki's arm. "You are pabbi."

Hans overtook a particularly slow taxi, then stepped on the brakes. He pressed a blue button to open the door of the mini-bus, but the children didn't move—only Heimdall, Frey, and Freya got off. It took a second for Loki to realise that they were waiting for him to allow them to do the same.

"Alright, everyone. Seat belts off, everyone out!" Hands slightly shaky, Loki unfastened his belt and Saga's, then allowed her to sit on his lap as he counted the kids to make sure everyone was getting off. When he was done, he took her hand and thanked Hans. Behind him, Tony grabbed Saga's free hand. 

"We might have some trouble getting off like this," Loki laughed. Still he and Tony managed to squeeze through the door, then hold Saga up in the air as she jumped and cracked up with laughter.

"Please," Tony said. "Have some faith."

"Alright, everyone." Heimdall clapped his hands together twice to get the children's attention. "Um, Loki."

"Right." Heimdall had been learning Icelandic, but he was far from being able to explain to the children how to behave in the cinema. Although he could almost go buy the groceries on his own, something he felt extremely proud of. "Everyone, we have ten minutes before the film starts. Me and Heimdall will take you to the bathrooms, so that you do not need to go in the middle of the film, while our friends Frey, Freya and Tony—" he pointed at each of them as he spoke, "—get popcorn and drinks. All of you wrote what you want to have in the list, right?"

"YES!" roared the children. One of them, Jakobe, said 'Coke!' instead.

"Great." Loki spun around and gave Tony the list, switching to English. "Here. If you do not mind, these are the drinks they are having. Heimdall and I are going to go to the bathroom with them, so that there are no I-want-pee incidents, so could you order while we are at it?"

"Leave it to us," answered Tony, eyeing the list. "Although maybe you're risking it a little with all the Coke. They're gonna be wild for the rest of the afternoon."

"Better for you, then," said Frey, and winked. "Tonight they will sleep like little logs." Wink wink, eyebrows. When he realised what Frey was talking about, Loki's cheeks lit up. "Now take them to pee."

Heimdall took care of the boys, and Loki, of the girls. He waited for them inside the bathroom, despite an old lady's death glare, leaning against the wall while he checked his phone. Tony had sent him a ninja picture from when he had been speaking with Saga. Even though he should've had a terrible angle, somehow he had managed to make it look cool, Saga's face being the main element. She was smiling as she sung to him.

"Loki," called Maria. He locked the phone and blinked, feeling a sudden wetness in his eyes. "Help me, please."

She was too short to reach the tap. Loki opened it for her, and also doused his own hands in soap before rubbing hers. Three more girls had the same problem, but the taller ones took care of it. Saga helped Tyra, and Loki felt strangely proud of her.

"Everyone's done," said Heimdall when Loki exited the bathroom. "We can go."

"Heimdall, there is only five children with you." Loki stared at him. "And I seem to recall there were thirteen when I left."

"The WC swallowed them whole." Heimdall stared back blankly.

"I am serious."

"They wanted Coke, so they ran to Tony and the twins." Glancing over his shoulder, Loki saw the little crowd of cokethirsty children surrounding his friends. "Heavens help us when we get out."

Tony and the Njordsens had also bought popcorn, and soon every child held their own bucket. They took up three entire rows at the back of the room, and when Tony held up his phone to take a selfie with them, most held up their cans with a huge smile plastered on their faces. Then Tony took pictures of them in small groups, or posed with them together with the twins. Heimdall and Loki made sure everyone could see, and went outside the room to ask for plastic seats for those who were too little.

"Look, LGBT children seats," commented Freya when they walked in again. "I love this place."

When everyone was seated, and had taken a selfie with Tony and Freya or with their closest friends, Loki could finally sit down and breathe. He was sitting at the end of the row above the last taken up by the children, so that he could watch over them in quite the literal sense. Saga had insisted on sitting besides him, so Frey was now sitting between Maria and Finn. Heimdall sat at the end of the second row of children, in case anyone should need anything, and Freya—Loki opened his eyes wide. Freya was sitting in the middle of the third row with Stian on her lap. The child looked happy, as she had let him play with her phone. The dim light from the screen sharpened his features, making him look older.

And Tony had bought a seat immediately next to his, so now he was resting his head on Loki's shoulder as he checked his mail. Feeling brave all of a sudden, Loki planted a kiss on his head. Tony smiled, and rubbed his cheek against Loki's shoulder like a kitten.

"What are we watching, again?" he asked Loki.

"Hotel Transylvania 3," Loki answered. "Oh. Sorry, but it is in Icelandic."

"Kurikari Transylvania, then? Cool. Don't worry, I like watching films in foreign languages. I can just make up whatever they say in my mind, and trust me, my scripts are a thousand times better than the originals. Hey, look at me."

Loki turned his head so that he could face Tony, but then the latter darted forwards and kissed him. When they broke the kiss, Tony showed him the selfie he had taken, pleased. 

"Now I have a great wallpaper from my business trip," he said. 

Saga tugged at Loki's sleeve. "Picture me."

"What?" Tony looked at her. "Sorry, I don't speak English."

"She wants to be in the picture."

"Third wheel voluntarily? I'm impressed." 

"No." Loki helped her sit on his lap. "I think she is thinking of, eh... More of a family picture," he muttered. 

Even though he was busy setting the picture as his new screensaver, Tony lowered the phone and looked at him dead serious. "Family picture, you said?"

Cheeks on fire, Loki nodded. "For her I am _pabbi—_ Dad."

At first Tony looked dazed, but then a smile slowly spread across his face. Instead of puzzled or taken aback, he had the face of a man who just won the lottery. "Daddy Lokes. Holy shit, man. Congrats. And that makes me...?"

"Whatever you want to be."

Neither spoke for a second. Loki couldn't meet Tony's gaze with a straight face, so he stared at his own feet. Then Tony cupped his face in his hands and gently made him look up, and said, "Pabbi Tony sounds pretty badass," and kissed his forehead. "Hey, Lokes, man, don't cry."

"Shut up, I am not crying," sobbed Loki. 

"Picture!" Saga grabbed Tony's wrist with both hands and squeezed. "Picture!"

"Yes, sweetheart." Tony held the phone slightly above their line of sight, and rested his head against Loki's temple with a peaceful, satisfied smile on his face. "One, two, three, familypictureee!"

He snapped several pictures, and let Saga take a few. Then the lights dimmed, and Tony grabbed Loki's hand.

"Can I still make out with you during the movie even if it's 3D for kids?" whispered Tony. For all answer, Loki licked his lips and grabbed his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly warning that this bubble of happiness will be bursting soon oops :)))


	8. Angular Momentum (pt.II)

In retrospective, Loki should have known things weren't going to end well.

Maybe he simply chose not to see it.

* * *

When the film ended they got out, all the children buzzing with excitement and caffeine from their drinks, and the feeling of _normalcy_. Heimdall, the Njordsens, and Tony led them towards a fast-food, while Loki checked on Berglind and the three children that had stayed behind.

"The little ones are sleeping already," she told him, her voice slightly buzzing from the call. "But Alecksandar is watching the fire. Has been the whole afternoon, not a word."

Loki sighed. Although he wanted to reach Alecksandar, the true Alecksandar behind the walls he had built around himself, the Alecksandar who needed help and could still be healed, he didn't know how to. Because these walls were too tall to climb, and Alecksandar wasn't opening the door for him to trespass.

"Just let him be," he told Berglind. "But please do make sure he eats his dinner. I do not want him falling sick."

"Yes. How are the other kids, sir?"

"Quite well, actually. Everyone liked the film, there have been no behaviour incidents so far, and we have gotten extra help from some friends. Maybe all they needed was to feel normal for one night," Loki answered. "Not the orphans from Einmanaleiki Street, not the rejected children. Just normal kids watching a film, and not having a care. You should see Saga, Berglind. She is simply happy. She smiles, she even spoke to Jakobe. It is such a beautiful sight."

On the other end of the call, Berglind was silent, but Loki could hear her softly breathing. "Sir, if you will pardon me, I don't think Saga will ever want to be adopted."

He blinked, but he didn't say anything for a while. Then he asked, "Why?".

"Because she already found a father."

"Lokes!" Tony jogged towards him, Heimdall and the twins having tamed the pack already. "We're going now. Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Loki answered in English. "Berglind, I have to go. I will see you later, yes?"

"Of course, sir. Do have fun. Lord knows they have earned it."

When he hung up, he stared at the screen for a while before looking up at Tony. The latter ducked his head. "May I take you on a luxurious date with our twenty-seven underage chaperones?"

"My," Loki answered, reaching for Tony's hand. "How could I turn down such a delicious offer?"

Tony leaned forwards and kissed his smile. Loki arched both eyebrows before cupping his face with his free hand, although, somehow, he felt something was wrong.

* * *

Miraculously enough, they found enough empty tables to fit all the children, one grown-up sitting at every table as the kids screamed in delight after opening their Happy Meals and finding there was a little toy waiting inside for them. Tyra and Stian stared at theirs for a second before exchanging her aviator Peanuts for his talking Minion. Saga began crooning as she moved her pink My Little Pony up and down, its wings getting dirty with ketchup as she dropped it inside her nuggets, doused in sauce. Maria stole Jakobe's fries, while the latter pretended not to notice but pushed them towards her discreetly. Kala and Sam ate one nugget from their own box and one nugget from the other's. None of them stirred trouble. Yet, Loki could feel it coming somehow, like an old fisherman senses the storm in his bones.

They took more pictures. Many ketchup and barbecue sauce-stained teeth smiled to the camera. One of the pics caught Jakobe staring wide-eyed as Maria stuck a finger she had licked previously inside his ear to steal his last fry. Heimdall ended up moving Twilight Sparkle around as Saga barked the unfolding of the story where Twilight was being chased by the Fry Knights for eating her fries. Twilight didn't end up good. And Heimdall had to buy her extra fries, and an ice-cream.

Then they exited the restaurant and waited for the bus that would take them back to Vernda Börnin, some of the younger children with red eyes already heavy from sleep. Saga crawled up onto Loki's back again, where she fell asleep playing with his scarf. Tony helped him accomodate it so that it would serve her as a pillow, and whispered that he looked even better in it than he remembered from the airport. Freya held Stian in her arms, and he was staring at her quietly like she held all the secrets of the universe, drawing her eyebrows her mouth her nose her eyes her cheeks her ears with a finger. Tyra stood by their side, looking at her brother with a small smile. Frey played hide-and-seek with a few kids, as full of energy and life as them. And Heimdall was with the rest, who were sitting on the floor in three neat rows, dozing off just like them.

As he watched all of them, fond, a small voice whispered in Loki's ear, _This can't last. This_ won't _last._ Insecurities, he told himself, old insecurities coming back. Tony was back, after all, glorious in his bright smile and shiny eyes. It was difficult not to feel a little... less favoured, wasn't it?

During the ride back home, Saga insisted on sitting with both of them, so Tony and he sat together and broke Loki's sense of morals and law by letting her lie across their legs, head on Loki's lap. Loki's head, at the same time, rested on Tony's shoulder, and Tony's head atop of it. Curiously enough, as Heimdall told him later, they did look like a family. Strange, unconventional, dealing-with-issues, but wonderful-all-the-same, strong, loving family. Ready to face the world and win.

Appearances can be quite the deceivers.

* * *

"Great afternoon," said Frey with a smile, leaning back on the couch. After all the kids had gone to bed, and Berglind had met the guests and shown them their rooms, they had gathered in the living room. Loki sat on the floor watching the chimney, Tony with his back against Loki's arm, whereas Heimdall and the twins occupied the whole couch. True to himself, Heimdall had brought a bowl full of red liquorice, and the Njordsens had taken good care of the drinks. Everything, right then and there, was perfect. And still, Loki couldn't bring himself to feel right.

"Indeed. I might watch the other two movies," agreed Tony. "The graphics weren't that bad."

"Right, you don't speak Icelandic." Frey leaned forwards. "How was the experience?"

Loki licked his lower lip nervously and looked away, while Heimdall answered with wicked amusement, "I believe it was not the screen he was focused on."

"Heimdall!" Tony protested, grinning. "Since when have you turned so subtle? Where are the good ol' days of direct harassment? Iceland is making you weak."

"It is your first day here, so I was saving it for later." Heimdall shrugged. "Feels twice as good to put you in evidence when you are fully rested."

"Thank you for the consideration," said Tony, bowing his head humbly. "Tomorrow I'll do my best to let you harass me the bluntest possible."

"I expect nothing less from you."

There was silence for a few seconds, before the Njordsens began speaking at the same time.

"How is it going with the kids?" asked Frey.

"We have to talk," stated Freya.

"Way to go, both of you," scolded Tony.

"Mmm, liquorice," exclaimed Heimdall, in a poor attempt to ease the sudden tension in the air.

Loki stared at them one by one, and then said, "Jesus Christ. What is happening?"

"Why do you suppose there's something happening?" Tony asked innocently.

Freya threw a cushion in their direction, which ended up against Loki's face. "Holy shit, Tony, he's not stupid. Sorry, Lokes, I sprained my wrist two weeks ago and it hasn't quite healed yet."

"Liquorice, anyone?" said Heimdall weakly.

"Me," muttered Frey, and leaned forwards to grab one from the bowl Heimdall offered him. "Things are gonna get... Interesting."

"Things? What does 'things' mean?" Loki turned his head. "Tony. Something is going on."

First Tony looked at him with big eyes, then he looked at the twins before sighing. "Alright. Okay, I'll tell him, you cowards. Just stop giving me those kitten eyes, Lokes. I really can't with them on me. In the good sense."

So Loki cleared his throat and looked away, and waited for Tony to be ready.

This took a few seconds. "Alright. Okay. Lokes, as our dearest Freya just pointed out, you're not stupid, so obviously you've already realised that we aren't here just to see your handsome face. Which _is_ one of the reasons why I came here indeed, but—"

"Tony," warned Freya.

"Yes, yes, I'm getting there. Jeez, if you're gonna make me do it, let me do it your way."

"It's obviously you telling, dude." Frey shook his head. "After all, it was you who found out."

"Found out?" Loki tossed. "Tony, you are scaring me. What is going on?"

"Lokes, honey..." Running his hands all the way up his face and across his hair, Tony sighed and closed his eyes. Then he reached for Loki's hand and squeezed once. "Don't interrupt me 'till I finish, alright?

"Shortly before Odin made his announcement, some people began to move threads here and there. Shares in your father's enterprise were put in sale suddenly, by people who had kept them almost since you father's enterprise took off. Some minor enterprises even retired their financial support, which was done discreetly, but still. Odin has been a titan of the sector since he put a foot on American floor, so when our analysts detected these movements, we couldn't understand them. What was happening? Why were they turning their backs on the associate that meant financial security? It wasn't rational.

"I thought maybe it was because of the weakness of the European economy lately, so I checked the statistics on our Njordsen friends' enterprise, and several others from across the Old Continent. But they remained the same, and some even gained investors. It became crystal clear quickly that whatever was happening, it was happening to your father exclusively. And while normally I wouldn't have paid much more attention to small movements like those taking place, it was Odin we were speaking about. People had gone from fighting over a Facebook friendship notification, to selling away his shares.

"But then he made this announcement on his Alzheimer, which made things go bonkers. People began fighting over his shares again, and whereas one may think it was out of pity for the poor man, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was very off. Because it _was—_ it _is._ I told JARVIS to keep track of any movement having to do with Odin, and I found out someone had been insistently researching on your old man's private life. Given the strange circumstances, I thought I should go deeper. So I tracked that one person, which was quite the odyssey, if you ask me. There were, like, a thousand firewalls and—"

This time Frey said, "Tony."

"I'm getting there, for God's sake! Give me a break." Tony crossed his arms over his chest. "In the end, I found out it had been some lady named Hela's doing. She had been using different public PC's and mixing up the IP's, but JARVIS was able to detect her by comparing the patterns of usage, the kind of pages she usually visited and read over and over, the hours at which se did. And while normally it would have been almost impossible to do without access to cameras or being Grissom, she made one big mistake. A month ago, she used her own phone to surf the net."

"Hela." Loki shook his head, repeating it over and over in his head. "The name does not really ring a bell. Who is her?"

Besides Frey and Freya, Heimdall closed his eyes and leaned against the couch. Loki didn't like that. He didn't like it at all.

"I was wondering the same, so I did a little research, too." Tony's voice was weak. "Before you... Look, she's a woman fueled by ambition, thirst for power, and selfishness, Lokes. All she's looking for is a way to make easy and big money, and now she has set her eyes on your father's enterprise to do so. Seems like she tried to sink your father for some reason in the first place, but when he announced that he was sick, she tried to help his enterprise recover as soon as possible, even increasing the original benefits. Both as a particular and as a counsellor from several small businesses, she bought hundreds of shares. Ones she had helped sell away first. Christian charity? Maybe, but I don't believe in that. Not when it comes to money, anyway. So I went on researching, and she..." His voice broke. He reached for Loki's hand and squeezed, looking into his eyes as he explained, "She is your sister. And she wants you out of the map."

At first Loki just stared, trying to digest all the information. Then he slowly began to panic as the meaning of it all reached him. "Out of the map? What does that mean? I have no sisters, Tony, and nor does Thor. There must be a mistake."

"Apparently there isn't," Tony said weakly. "She got her DNA tested, and she's Odin's daughter. Not only that, but she's older than Thor by a few years. Which means that, if you read Odin's will closely, she's the older of the three of you. She has every right to inherit the enterprise, and that's what made her turn her attention to you. At first she tried to devaluate the enterprise so much, Thor would be forced to sell it at a ridiculous price. But then she somehow put her hands on Odin's will and understood that, the way it had been written, she could claim her rights to the enterprise. 'The oldest of my children' could refer to her very well, as it didn't specify the gender. Not only that, but Odin's health issues had forced him away from his leadership. It was Thor and you inheriting, and she could protest against this having the law on her side. So she did. She tried to impugn the will."

"But it did not work," guessed Loki.

"It was a complete bluff." Tony shook his head. "Everyone had heard Odin pass on the enterprise to Thor and the orphanage to you, which kind of invalidated her point. So now she has decided to go for a different strategy. She..."

Then he quietened, and looked away. Frey and Freya nodded to encourage him, but his cheeks had gone pale. He wasn't only nervous now—he was _afraid_. Of what he was going to say.

"She?" Loki inquired. If only his voice wouldn't shake.

"Hela. As she can't take what she thinks is hers the legal way, she's going for something way dirtier. Loki, she's trying to get rid of you two. Permanently. So that you can never be a problem again."

* * *

He couldn't quite breathe. Which was horrible, because he had to call Thor, _had_ to warn him, had to tell him that Hela was coming and would be trying to put him to sleep and that he wasn't safe safe safe safe he wasn't safe he wasn't safe, but he couldn't quite breathe and it was difficult to speak when you couldn't breathe, so how was he going to tell him?, because he had to tell him and he didn't know how.

"Loki. Loki, breathe." Tony grabbed him by the shoulders. "Stay with me, Lokes. We can get through this, but you have to stay with me. Okay?"

"Thor," panted Loki, feeling a pressure building up in his chest. "Thor, we have to tell him. He has to—"

"We already did," Frey said. "Freya and I have known him since forever, so we visited him the second Tony told us about this. Since then he's been alert."

"But she wants to _kill_ us and oh my God, oh my god oh my god oh my GOD." Loki coughed. "What can she possibly want from us? Why dead?"

"Because then she'll be the only heir to the Allföðr imperium, and no-one will be able to say otherwise. Not with her DNA proven true." Tony shook his head. "She'll have a tougher time taking Thor down, because he's got excellent bodyguards and all that, but you're alone and unprotected here, in Vernda Börnin. You're an easy target."

"So that is why you came," Loki understood suddenly. "Because of Hela."

"Loki, we need you safe. _I_ need you safe. Most probably it has drawn her attention, the sudden disappearance of the three richest heirs in the world, but we can't leave you unprotected here. Not until she's been neutralised for good. As long as you're here, she will have a golden chance to tear your father's empire apart. So I'm asking you to trust me on this, and close Vernda Börnin for a while. At least, until she's been caught."

"Close... Vernda Börnin?" repeated Loki, the words strange in his mouth. "No. That is absolute madness, and I will not do it."

"Have you even listened to me?" Tony let out a frustrated grunt. "You are in danger. If you and the children stay here, she'll have it easy. You're unprotected, you're few, you're weak. Here there is only the children, Heimdall, the old housekeeper, and you. It's like opening the door to her, and throwing rose petals all the way to your room."

"And where will we go? Are you going to let thirty children inside your house until they all come of age?" Loki folded his arms across his chest and arched an eyebrow. "These children have no family, not a single one of them. They have had little or no childhood, and now you are asking me to take away the first place that has ever felt like home to them. Why cannot we defend ourselves _here?_ If we run away, we will be doing exactly what she wants. We will be giving in to her."

"This isn't about giving in or out, Lokes. It's about you and the children being in danger."

"But..." Loki felt suddenly tired. "But they are only kids," he whispered in a very thin voice. "Only kids. Why would she want to hurt them?"

"Because that way she'd hurt you," answered Freya, sighing. "Everyone knows what you're doing here with the children, and the donations to the Valhalla foundation that supports the orphanage have rocketed. Right now, and thanks to you, Vernda Börnin is valuable. There are investors, there is international prestige. It's a symbol not only of power, but also of your own strength as a leader, Loki. You brought it from an almost-forgotten place, to a safe haven. If you were plotting against a family like yours, Loki, and there was this kind of place being run by one of the two men you're trying to wipe out, wouldn't you be tempted to take it down?"

"If she hurts the children, there is no way she will ever put her hands on our father's business. No one likes a child abuser."

"Trust us," said Frey sadly. "If she wants to do it without leaving a trace, she will. She's had a long time to prepare for this."

"Frey," warned Freya. "Loki, all you need to know is that she knows what she wants, and she won't let anything stand in her way. Even if there are children involved. The wisest thing to do is to lie low, at least until we know how to stop her."

"And am I to do with thirty children?" shouted Loki hysterically. "It's not fair for them!"

"I can take care of that," repeated Tony. "Word hasn't spread yet, so we can count ourselves lucky. I've been... busy. Remember that I told you about the Tower project?"

Loki nodded, his head still spinning around with all the information and the danger.

"Well, now it's real. The Stark Tower is a thing. Big. Enormous. With enough room for thirty children." Tony rubbed his nape. "If they come with me to America, nothing will ever happen to them."

"To _America?_ Tony, for God's sake, the children barely know how to say 'hello' in English."

"And if Hela gets them, they will never know anything else!" screamed Tony, now hysterical as well. "I want to help you, Loki! I want to protect you! Why is it so hard to understand? Every second we spend here kills me, because she might be nearby, somewhere, plotting to end you. And it kills me, because every time you call me or I call you or you text me or I text you, it might be the last time I hear from you. It takes my fucking breath away every time."

"But it is not only me now, Tony. I appreciate what you are trying to do, but there are children who need me now. I cannot just..."

"I know! That's why I offered you all to come to the Stark Tower with me!"

Rationally, Loki knew Tony was offering him real solutions. But somehow there was this churl of _something_ he didn't quite know how to tame in the pit of his stomach—something making him angry and afraid, and unfair. Because it hurt. It hurt to see Tony hurting, to see himself making him hurt. It hurt to make Tony suffer. It hurt not to hold his hand and assure him everything would be alright. And it also hurt to know he was being the damsel in distress _again_ , unable to help himself out of trouble. None of it was Tony's fault. But he couldn't stop himself.

"Loki," said Heimdall softly. "You know he is right."

"I do," Loki admitted weakly. "But for some reason I feel... Defeated. Tony, ever since I met you I have felt like a burden, you know that much. I already panicked when we went out for frozen yoghourt because we did not look _right_ together, and you had to rescue me from a women's restroom. But now you are going even greater lengths, ones no-one should ever even begin to think of, so how do you expect me to just say yes? Your being here is already risky. Maybe you will get hurt because of me. And I cannot bear that, Tony. I cannot say yes to you putting your whole life at a stake for me."

"It's not because of you. It's because your friggin' psycho sister insists on doing things the bloody way," Tony assured him. "But trust me, Loki, I'm not doing or saying anything I'm not a hundred and twenty percent ready to do. We are together, through thick and thin, Lokes. And that means you get to save my ass, and I get to save yours. The dimensions of the saving are minor details."

"Since when have I saved your ass?"

"Since the day we met," said Tony. "Since that day, when you gave me hope." And he sounded so convinced, Loki ached. Loki ached a lot, from what he would have to do.

Because Tony was light, and he couldn't let him go out because of _him_.

"Alright, Tony, alright. You take the children to the Stark Tower," he said.

"What's the 'but'?"

"Excuse me?"

Tony glanced at him. "You said 'take the children'. Not 'us'. Sounds like an impending 'but' to me. What about you? Loki, don't do this."

"Do what?"

"Punish yourself. Turn away from my help just because you believe yourself to be a nuisance. Don't do this to us."

Loki looked at the flames burning bright in the chimney. Because Tony was right. Loki wasn't going to the Stark Tower to lie low.

"Tony, look, I..."

Then the lights went off, and they were in utter darkness.

Freya screamed. Cursing, Tony reached for his phone and commanded, "JARVIS, flashlight!" There was a blinding ray of light coming from the back of his phone, and he held it up as the other four lit their own and spun around, Freya counting as she lit up each of their faces. Loki looked at her, dazed, but then something clicked. Because they looked frightened. They looked like they were being hunted down.

Only, it wasn't them being hunted down.

It was _him_.

"HEIMDALL, THE CHILDREN!" screamed Tony. He got up, pulling Loki along, and ran towards the corridor. "FREY, FREYA, SECOND FLOOR!"

Someone screamed at the end of the west wing. Shaking, Loki recognised the voice as Berglind's, and he realised that there was someone inside the orphanage, someone that hadn't been invited. The safe haven of Vernda Börnin had been violated. Whether by one or by one hundred he didn't know, but the thought sent chills down his spine.

Door by door, Tony opened it and checked that the children were still there. He screamed at them to pull down the blinds before sticking a small silver disc to their doors and moving on, Loki growing more and more restless with every second in the dark. Most had been sleeping. All had heard Berglind scream. All were frightened, their little faces white and their eyes haunted. They had been happy just hours ago, and now they were inside a nightmare they couldn't wake up from, because it was _real._

"We're almost done and everyone's in their rooms," Tony muttered, out of breath, as they turned around a corner. "The discs will electrify the outside of the door, and no one but me will be able to deactivate them. Frey and Freya have some, too. She won't get them, Loki, I swear to God she won't. I won't let her."

Three doors to go. Alecksandar was there, scared but well. Two more. Maria was crying when they saw her, and screamed when they opened her door. Tony told her to lower the blinds, and she couldn't from utter shock, so Tony took her in his arms and flew towards the end of the corridor. One, only one. Loki's breath caught in his throat. One, one, one, all were there, don't let her be gone, one, just one.

But his prayers were unheard.

When they opened the door, the curtains waved from the wind coming through the open window, like the sails of a boat. The covers were a tangled mess, pillow hanging from the lamp, her favourite plushie torn apart with its white insides scattered over the room. Loki fell to his knees, hearing Tony's voice but not quite able to make out what he was saying, his vision being engulfed by a jet black darkness like he was entering a tunnel. Because he had failed. He had failed her. He had promised to keep her safe, but he hadn't been _enough_ to do so.

Saga was gone.


	9. Energy Dispersal

He wasn't being rational, and he knew it. But Loki simply couldn't take it anymore, so on the third day, he was gone, having vanished as if he had never set a foot on the Stark Tower.

Even though the Starks, the Njordsens and, of course, the Allföðrs had set up a non-written alliance to track Hela and find Saga, it had been like chasing a ghost. Every day Loki would wake before dawn, after a short sleep filled with troubled dreams, and stay up investigating and using old favours he was owed to find her. But every day Loki would turn off all the computers and finish his last calls feeling the bitter taste of failure in the back of his throat. All the children were safe under Tony's protection, and despite the exceptional circumstances, they were adapting well. As Berglind had been knocked out by the assaulters by means of hitting her head with something heavy, thus getting a severe concussion, Tony had put his own personal assistant in charge of them until the old lady recovered fully. Even though over a year had gone by since the one and only time Loki had seen her, Pepper Potts did remember him. And he did remember her, as a kind and lovely person, which was the reason why he consented having her take care of the —remaining—orphans of Vernda Börnin.

Heimdall helped her out sometimes, but most of his time was spent with Loki, taking note of every detail Loki thought to be relevant, making part of the calls, or simply holding his hand as he wept because he couldn't pretend he wasn't breaking anymore. Whenever Loki found a trail that wasn't cold yet, Heimdall was the first to know, and the last to give up. Whenever he fell asleep during his research, face on the keyboard, Heimdall brought him a pillow and a few blankets. Whenever he forgot to eat, Heimdall appeared with a bowl of hot chicken soup. Whenever he needed to speak, Heimdall listened, and whenever he needed to be silent, Heimdall listened as well.

And then there was Tony, who tried to help in every way humanly possible so hard, he was beginning to unnerve Loki.

Loki wasn't well. He knew that much.

His attempts at finding Saga weren't taking him anywhere. He knew that much.

His sleeping and eating habits were going to hell. He knew that much.

Lately he looked like a ghost of himself. An irritated, sleep-deprived, anxious ghost. He knew that much.

And precisely because he knew, he didn't need Tony reminding him of it constantly, with his treating him as if he were made of glass. Because Hela might have hit him where it hurt the most, but even if barely, he was still standing and breathing on his own. As long as Saga was out there, kidnapped by his megalomaniac sister, he would fight to find her and bring her home, with him. Indeed he looked shattered, but the pieces hadn't fallen apart yet. And having Tony act, speak, _feel_ as if they had made him incredibly, immensely, infinitely angry.

Which was irrational, and extremely unfair. He tried to tell himself that much every time he noticed the already familiar pulsing rage running through his veins, trying to poison every good memory and every beautiful feeling he shared with Tony.

Still he couldn't get rid of it. It was everywhere, dyeing his world the colour of blood and fire and revengelust, intoxicating him.

So he left before it spread like a contagious disease.

* * *

"Wherever you go, I go," had said Heimdall when he found Loki packing the few belongings he had brought to the Stark Tower.

Looking up from his small suitcase, Loki had slowly shaken his head. "Not this time, Heimdall. The children need you."

"I know." Then Heimdall had stepped into his room, and put a hand on his shoulder. "But you need me more."

"No." Loki shook his hand away, feeling the heat of his rage rise quickly as it fueled him, fueled the desire to hurt and hurt and hurt and inflict the same pain he was in because it wasn't fair, nothing was fair lately. "I do not need you. And nor do I need Tony, or Frey and Freya. I just need you all to leave me alone. Seeing as you are not doing anything useful to find her," he snapped, tasting the poison in his words and wishing that he could take them back but unable to, and unwilling to as well, "at least let me try to get things done."

For a second he thought Heimdall might slap him across the face, the way his stepfather did when seven-year-old Loki was being stubborn about not wanting to sleep in this park and he wasn't on the mood. He almost wanted him to, so that he could have a reason to be this angry.

But Heimdall pulled him closer and hugged him instead. The anger did not want to go away, and it tried to cling onto him, but Heimdall was rubbing the back of his head slowly, like he did during Loki's first weeks under Odin and Frigga's roof when he couldn't sleep, and he couldn't bring himself to stay infuriated. Instead he buried his face in Heimdall's shoulder and wept. And Heimdall allowed him to.

When he found the nerve to calm down, he pulled away, ashamed. Afraid. Guilty and worthless.

"Let us get things done," said Heimdall. "Together."

Loki nodded, suddenly exhausted. "I was going to leave..." he whispered. "Tony is doing everything he can think of for me, I know that much. But I cannot bear it anymore. I am a terrible person, Heimdall, am I not? I cannot bear it anymore."

"You have never been a horrible person, Loki," answered Heimdall. He gently closed Loki's suitcase and left it on the floor, against the wardrobe, then helped Loki to his bed. "But you have suffered a great deal, and sometimes not even the best of intentions can help one handle the pain. It is not because of him, or because of you. It is because life will turn harsh and unwelcoming more often than not, and it is not in our hands to prevent it from such. Only to hold each other close, and stand together instead of crumbling under its weight."

"If only I could hold him close." Already drifting off, Loki closed his eyes. "If only I could be worthy of him, for once."

"Oh, Loki." Heimdall gently rubbed his forehead. "People can never be enough, too little or too much. You can only be you, and believe me, that is more than sufficient. Now sleep, sir."

Although still haunted, Loki's dreams last night were much less restless.

When he rose with the sun, Heimdall had made his own packing.

They left three notes on the desk.

One for the children. A see-you-soon.

One for Berglind and the Njordsens. A goodbye.

One for Tony. An apology.

* * *

From their research, they had already found out that Hela wasn't acting on her own. Despite the vagueness of the information and the scarcity of proof, Loki had managed to connect her to an organisation—Hydra. Loki had never heard of Hydra before, which did little to soothe him. Only one person had dared speak about it on a forum, just a mentioning of the name.

Two hours later, the post had been taken down, and the user no longer existed. Neither in the forum, not anywhere else on the Internet.

So Loki had stared at the screen for some time, he had quietly cursed in the three languages he knew, and then he had phoned Thor.

He didn't want to endanger Thor. But his brother had something he was in desperate need of, and that was a rich list of emergency contacts.

Thor had sent it to him through JARVIS' closed system of messaging, and Loki had quickly memorised the phone numbers and names before telling JARVIS to delete said message.

Now he had two names.

Natasha Romanoff.

And James Buchanan Barnes.

* * *

First he ditched his phone, a technological miracle, in favour of a Jitterbug flip. Pressing the big numbers as he saved Heimdall's number in the phone's memory felt alien, after so long using only touchscreens for pretty much everything—but, then again, everything felt alien lately, so it somehow fit the situation. Then he opened a bank account under the name mister Félix González, instructing his personal bank assistant to simply transfer whichever amount of money mister González withdrew from his public account to the latter's under the appearance of donations to an NGO. Little by little, everything that had belonged to Loki Laufeyson ceased to exist—or was simply held in standby, as Félix González came to life as an average nobody. A John Doe. Someone who wasn't tied to Odin, and thus wouldn't draw Hydra's attention. Hopefully.

That took them the most part of a week. Normally it would have taken twice as much time, but being unable to sleep without seeing _her_ face granted Loki many extra hours.

Then he called Natasha.

* * *

" _Dobryy den'_ , " answered miss Romanoff when he called her. "Who is this?"

"Laufeyson." 

There was a hiss on the other end of the call.

"This is not safe. Tomorrow at noon, your grandfather's."

And then she hung up.

Heimdall looked at his face of incredulity. 

Loki stared back.

Then they signed up in a hotel near the streets where Loki had grown up, and as he stared at the only picture he had kept from his old phone, Loki tried not to think of a little seven-year-old frightened from the old men sleeping near him and his mother and catcalling them. Instead he focused on Saga's limpid gaze until he fell asleep.

* * *

Loki hadn't been inside his grandfather's home since the latter was put in a nursing home, and it was clear nobody had, either. Finding the spare key his grandfather kept among the thick branches of the small Christmas tree in the backyard took him a few minutes, it being a big tree. When he finally opened the back door, a stench like rotting old memories hit him. A rancid smell had overlapped with the scent of his happiest childhood days, resulting in such an odour, he had to sit down in the garden for a few minutes until enough fresh air had gotten inside the house.

Everything was exactly as he remembered it, like a moment frozen in time, except for the thick layer of dust. As he and Heimdall entered the house, relying entirely on a flashlight due to the lack of power, he could see dirty dishes in the sink. Clothing on the clothes drier. An open book, a bookmark sticking out between the two pages. A mug which must have contained coffee, once. Signals of an interrupted morning.

It was a quarter to twelve.

While Heimdall looked around him uncomfortably, Loki walked towards the chimney. Atop of it, on the shelf, his grandfather had kept many pictures of his family—him with his wife, their four children, family meetings, silly Halloween costumes. And Loki. Before forgetting who he was, his grandfather had put as many pictures of Loki as he could find behind the glass of every single available frame. Newborn Loki, toddler Loki, beggar Loki. Loki spending the afternoon. Him teaching Loki how to play chess.

Careful not to touch anything, Loki examined every single photograph, and silently wept for the child with the bright eyes looking at the camera. Because he had looked in the mirror, and that very spark was now gone.

Then his watch chirped, and Natasha Romanoff entered the house.

"No one followed you?" she asked as soon as the door was closed behind her.

"No one," confirmed Heimdall.

"Good." Natasha looked at both of them as if taking them in, as if scanning them. "I take it you are looking for Hela."

Loki startled, which was visibly enough of a confirmation for her. Natasha sighed.

Beneath long eyelashes hid eyes the colour of acid apples, like two gemstones set in her heart-shaped face. Features framed by a dark mane, fair skin splashed by one or two moles here and there, Natasha didn't look deadly.

Which, Loki thought, probably meant she was.

"Thor already told you?"

Natasha snorted. "I don't need him to tell me anything to figure out you are looking for her. Since Odin Allföðr made his Alzheimer public, things have been changing. Very few people, besides their members, know about Hydra and their associates, but we have noticed an unexpected activity. It isn't necessary to be a genious to understand that the two things are related, and the one thing tying them together is Hela."

"Impressive," said Heimdall. "And I am inclined to think that you know the reason why we are behind her, as well."

She crossed her arms. "The attack on Vernda Börnin, the orphanage, two weeks ago. Rumour has it something very precious was taken from you that night, mister Laufeyson."

"Not something." Loki closed his hands in fists, then opened them again and tried to relax his fingers when he noticed Natasha's stare. "Someone. One of the children was kidnapped, and we have not heard from her ever since. I presume she wants to use her to coerce me or my family into passing on the business to her."

"Strange, then, that you haven't heard from Hela or Hydra yet. Normally after the kidnapping comes the extorsion." Frowning, Natasha tapped her fingernails on a table. "Neither your father nor your brother have been contacted? Well, then this is quite odd. It almost smells like a personal _vendetta_. Against you."

"Most obviously, yes." Loki rubbed his arm. "Whatever the reason behind the taking of the child, I must find her. Apparently Thor thinks you will be helpful."

"Thor is right." With a dry smile, Natasha rolled up the sleeve of her sweater to show him her forearm, on which at first he could see nothing. Then she rubbed a patch of skin gently with the back of her hand, and as she did, a skull surrounded by six tentacles merged from behind the makeup. "Because I know them extremely well."

Dizzy with the revelation, Loki closed his eyes and stumbled backwards. Natasha had the organisation's logo tattooed on her arm, which meant she had, at least, been a part of Hydra. If she still was, they were in big trouble.

"You worked for them?" asked Heimdall politely.

"For a while, I pretended I did." Natasha pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "Then my cover was blown up, and I had to disappear for a while. Your family was gentle enough to help me find somewhere to lie low, and for that I am in debt with you."

Even though Natasha hadn't explained why she had worked with Hydra, Loki didn't press her for an answer any further. Instead he said, "Do you have the slightest idea as to why would they want to take a little girl? As I said, I believe they will use her against me, but maybe you can offer a different insight."

"No, I'm thinking the same. What Hela pursued when she struck a deal with Hydra was a position of power, money and influence. That is what your father's legacy means, and she must be trying to find a way to get you and Thor to hand it to her. The moment she found out about your fondness of the little girl, she must have seen her chance to make you surrender what you have to her. Only, she must be looking for the proper moment to use it against you."

Despite having thought that himself, Loki couldn't help flinching at her words. Because they were the confirmation that Saga was probably in great danger, and it was him, after all, the reason why she was. 

"She sounds like a gentle lady," Heimdall observed.

"She isn't."

They remained in silence for a moment, and then Loki asked, "Will you help us?"

"Help you?" Natasha's tight smile turned almost feral. Loki was certain she had heard and understood the question. Now she was waiting for further explanation.

"Hunt her down. So that she can never hurt anyone again." Loki's voice was cold and had a certain edge to it. Even he realised it as he spoke, noticing as well that he really meant it. 

Natasha looked at Loki as if evaluating him, then offered him her hand. Loki noticed silver lines against her skin, intertwined in such ways that they seemed to be a map. As he shook her hand, she offered him the slightest hint of a smile.

Something was bothering Loki. "If it is not rude of me to ask... Why are you so eager to help us fight against her?"

"Why? Natasha Romanoff smiled coldly, and in her smile there was a warning about the blizzard roaring in her eyes. "Because Hela got my best friend killed. And I still owe her."

* * *

While Natasha and Heimdall and Loki discussed their next steps, the latter received a call. Even though he hadn't saved any phone number save for Heimdall's, he recognises the one on the screen. He could recognise it anywhere, because he knew it by heart. Tony's number.

He braced himself for what was coming before accepting the incoming call.

"LOKI, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU!?" Tony's voice nearly made his eardrum explode. And Loki's old rage returned. Because he wasn't a child, and even if he were, Tony had no right to speak to him that way. "IT'S BEEN A FUCKING TWO WEEKS."

"If you are going to talk to me like that," Loki hissed, already feeling the churning rage inside of him, trying to keep it under control, "then you should hang up. Try again when you have calmed down."

"Calmed down!? Loki, I woke up and you were gone. All you left was a goddamned note saying that you were sorry, and that in due time you would explain yourself. How the heck am I supposed to react to that? Maybe you want me to say it was genious? Because it wasn't. It was mean, and unlike you."

"Unlike me." For some reason that angered Loki even further. "Maybe you expected me to simply lie down on a bed and wait for you to solve my problems for me?"

"So that's why?" Tony let out a frustrated grunt. "Because I'm trying to help, and you're too proud to allow me to? That's childish, and you know it."

"No, Tony." Now he was bursting into flames, and the heat inside his stomach made it so easy, way too easy to vent his rage at Tony. "Because you think I am not able to do a thing by myself, and that if it is not you taking care of everything, things can never work out. I am not the princess in the tower waiting for you to come rescue me. And I am tired of having you think so."

"Seriously, Loki, what the hell are you saying?" Tony was angry too now, and it felt good. It felt good and it felt wrong but it felt right and wrong and right. "Are you even listening to yourself?"

"I am. The question is, have you ever stopped to listen to me? Instead of simply deciding that most surely I need this or that? Because maybe I do not need to lie low in your damned Stark Tower, and leave it all to you as you would like me to. Maybe I needed you to have a little faith in me, and all you did was believing I could not do it, I could not manage and I could not get through this. You decided I was broken, and never even stopped to see whether I actually was. You decided I was the Mary Sue in this relationship, and of course you had to come in your shiny armour to solve every single problem I have, because apparently I would never be able to do it myself." Loki was almost screaming now. Heimdall and Natasha looked at him in silent warning, so he tried to keep his voice low. "Staying in the Stark Tower while Saga has been taken to wherever she has been taken was killing me, Tony. Did you realise? Did you even care? Or were you too busy patting yourself on the back because you were saving the day?"

"Enough," snapped Tony. "Enough of this bullshit, Loki. If I did all I did, it's because I love you, and I was dead worried for you and your children. Do you really think I did it out of selfishness? Because then you're seriously gone."

"No, Tony." Suddenly Loki was too exhausted to carry on fighting him. "I do not think you realised what you were doing. All I needed was someone who would stand with me, but instead you made me sit down and watch from afar."

"You were having a fucking breakdown, and clearly you're having another one. I don't think you were anywhere near well enough to do anything without endangering all of us."

Wrong word choice.

"Well, you said it yourself. Apparently I can do nothing without endangering all of you."

"Damn it, Loki, you know I didn't mean it that way—"

"But you said it." Tears stung Loki's eyes, and why the hell was he crying now? Don't sob, he told himself, don't sob don't sob don't sob. Just. Don't. Sob. 

Only, Tony could still read his very breathing like an open book. "Lokes, you're crying." His voice softened, and Loki knew his anger was already gone. "Look, I don't want to fight. Not with you, specially not over this. Just..." He sighed in frustration. "I would tell you to come home, so that we can solve it together, but I suspect it's the worst thing I could say right now."

"Well, at least you did listen to me this time." Voice horse, Loki hoped it would stop quivering.

"You worried us sick," Tony whispered. "And I'm not telling you just so that you come back. Of course we'd like you to, but you're right. I can't force you to do things just because I believe it's what's best for you, or can I. Look where it has taken me. To screaming at you over the phone." His voice cracked, and suddenly Loki was revolted at the thought that he had done that to Tony, he had made him worry and he had hurt him. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind a little voice sang happily, _So you finally realised you are unworthy of him!_ He remembered Heimdall saying how people couldn't be enough, too little or too much. Then he wanted to believe those words, so desperately that it hurt. But he couldn't. Because he had inflicted Tony such pain, there was no way he could be worthy of him. 

Heimdall saying he didn't need to be enough. Tony saying he was everything to him. Saga smiling, he himself failing them. Thor holding him and crying after Odin's announcement. Odin trusting him to do good in Vernda Börnin. His grandfather telling him that he will be great someday, he will do awesome things, he will make the world a better place. He himself failing them, too. He himself failing them all.

"Tony," he said, though came out as a moan. "Tony, I cannot do this to you anymore. I cannot hurt you any further."

"Shh, it's alright, Lokes. We're talking, and we're fixing it. Alright?"

"No. No, no, Tony, no. It is not alright. Because it always ends up this way—I end up hurting you. And I do not want to, I swear to God I do not, but I always do it. Once and again and again."

Tony must have noticed something in his voice, because his tone grew urgent.

"Listen to me, Loki. Even if we've hurt each other, it hasn't been on purpose. You're under great stress right now, and I understand. I know you didn't want to do this to me. You—"

"But I _wanted to_ , Tony, that is the problem." Loki shakes his head, trembling. "All I wanted was to make you feel as terrible as I was feeling, and that is... Sick. But I cannot promise I will never do it again, because I do not trust myself not to. Not while this is going on."

" _Loki_." Fear stained Tony's voice. There he went again. Hurting hurting hurting being unworthy hurting hurting hurting being unworthy hurting hurting HURTING.

"You know I have loved you more than anything, and I am mostly certain I always will. But I cannot be with you while I am... Like this. I cannot drag you down with me."

"So we're breaking up? Right when we need each other the most?"

"No, we are..." Loki tried to find an appropiate word. "On hold. Until things get cleared up enough that we can adress this properly. I want to be fair with you, Tony, and right now I know I will not be able to. You have seen it earlier. I do not trust myself."

"But I do trust you." Faith. Tony had faith in him, and while it was somehow comforting, like coming home, it was also a weight on his shoulders. Because he wasn't sure he had the energy to live up to Tony's expectations, whichever they were.

"Then all I am asking is for you to trust me on this."

Tony was silent on the other end of the call for a long time.

Then he said, "I trust you, Lokes."

He said, "We will take good care of the children."

He said, "Call or write if you stumble upon anything important."

He said, "We'll all miss you."

He said, "Come back home, safe and sound."

He said, "I will wait for you."

Loki said, "Goodbye, Tony."

Then he hung up.

* * *

Natasha and Heimdall didn't make any comment on what they had just heard. Loki stared at the phone for a while before deleting the call from the register, and then he looked up.

"What is our next move?" he asked Natasha.

She started towards the door.

"We're meeting Bucky."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there angst, our old friend, here we come to you again.


	10. Linear Momentum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit's gonna happen AT LAST.

Just like Thor had warned him, Natasha wasn't much of a small-talker. Instead she took silence and wrapped it around herself like a blanket on a cold day, only leaving its comfort when absolutely necessary. But Loki didn't feel like talking much lately, so it didn't faze him. If someone knew about self-protecting behind a wall of quiet, that was him. Because, even if she hadn't told them about her best friend having been killed by Hydra, it was evident that Natasha was trying to fight off quite a respectable amount of something similar to pain, but slightly wilder than regular suffering. She seemed to have chosen to do so by giving it the cold shoulder, and Loki wasn't going to argue with her about the best ways to deal with her issues, since it had become obvious he didn't have a clue himself on how to face his own.

James Buchanan Barnes lived in Indiana, which meant twelve hours inside a car, driving down the I-90 W in hopes of a fluid traffic. Heimdall and Loki's suitcases were inside the boot of Natasha's black SUV, which was humdrum enough that, despite sitting inside of it, Loki couldn't fully remember how it looked like. Heimdall had taken up the passenger's seat, whereas Natasha drove with her chin held high and her lips tightly sealed. She didn't turn the radio on. The OST to their trip was the smooth rustling of the wheels against the concrete, and the occasional swish of a big panel as they left it behind. Resting his head against the window, Loki watched the trees blur past, and felt slightly blurry, too. Anger outbursts were exhausting. Being an asshole was exhausting. Regretting the former was exhausting.

“I assume Mr Barnes is also involved, to a certain degree, in the illegal activities Hydra runs,” said Heimdall after a full hour in silence.

Natasha calmly overtook a lorry. “You assume correctly.”

"May I assume he has something to do with the friend you lost, Miss Romanoff?”

Even Loki could feel the blazing heat as he heard Heimdall play with fire.

But Natasha didn’t even blink. “You assume correctly, again.”

Heimdall leaned back against his seat, and didn’t push it any further. Instead he pulled out his earbuds and mp3, and tuned out of the silence completely. That left Loki and Natasha sharing the quiet, but neither seemed to mind it. Loki sure as hell didn’t. If he didn’t open his mouth, no poisonous words could get out.

When they were halfway through their trip, Natasha took the nearest exit to refuel at a gas station and grab something to eat, but that was the only time they stopped at all. Heimdall had dozed off right when they were entering Ohio, and his head hung low, chin against his chest, as he drooled slightly in his sleep. Loki himself felt groggy from the monotonous landscape and the lack of activity. But Natasha looked about as fresh as when she had started the car nine hours ago, which was quite impressive taking into account that she had only drunk water—no caffeine was keeping her alert. If Loki had fostered any doubt that she was beyond ordinary, it had been wiped out.

Night was falling now, and Heimdall woke up complaining about his neck hurting like a cancelled birthday party. But he fell asleep again soon, tired for no obvious reasons, and the silence resumed its rule over the car.

In the end it was Natasha who broke the silence.

“Impressive,” she commented. “Until today, I had never met anyone able to find comfort in the silence. You must be quite rare, mister Laufeyson.”

“Thank you, I guess,” answered Loki. “Though I do not find it comforting. I simply find it useful. It is not necessarily better than noise, but right now, it is not worse, either. That is enough for me.”

“Hm.” Although there was nothing to be approved of, Loki still felt that, somehow, she approved of his answer.

They remained quiet again for some time.

Then, as they entered Greensburg, she said, “Heads down, both of you.” Before Loki could even ask why, she slammed the brakes and the car began skidding, threatening to leave the road. It spun around once, twice, then it finally stopped, blocking half of the highway, and Loki could see the reason she had done that.

In front of them were several black vans, which Loki thought couldn’t be more cliché if they tried. From behind the vans, a woman appeared and walked calmly towards them until she was a few metres away from them. She checked on the SUV, then shrugged.

Despite the long distance, Loki faintly heard her say, “Fire.”

Natasha grunted and put in the first gear with such rage, Loki was surprised to see the lever still in place, and then the car launched forwards at breakneck speed. Head against the headrest because of it, Loki saw the vans approach too quick for his liking, and realised what Natasha meant to do half a second before she did it. When the bullets started flying, a second after the woman gave the order, she made the car skid again, then used the momentum to accelerate towards the lane to their left, which hadn’t been taken up entirely as it was to be used in the opposite direction.

“I said heads down!” Natasha screamed, and without taking her eyes off the road, she reached for Heimdall with one hand and forced his head almost on his lap, startling him. How he had managed to sleep through the previous skid Loki didn’t know. Now he was wide awake, and it took him less than a second to follow Natasha’s instructions for dear safety.

“So now we are being chased?” he complained. “I was having the best dream of my entire life.”

“Shut up and stay down, or die,” snapped Natasha through gritted teeth. Glancing over her shoulder, she cursed in a language Loki didn't know.

She sped up each time more, and Loki didn’t need to look up to know the vans were still chasing them. Several bullets ricocheted off the windshield every second. And right when he thought things couldn't get much worse, they did. In front of them appeared a lorry, which started honking like crazy. Besides them the right lane was free now, but the moment Loki thought of suggesting getting back to it, one of the vans took it up. Heimdall straightened, flipped them the bird, then quickly crouched down again.

“Lorry!” screamed Loki, although it was obvious there was a lorry coming their way—or, rather, that they were in the way of the lorry. “Natasha!”

“Shut up!” she screamed, “I’m driving!” Loki almost couldn’t hear her from the deafening sound of gunfire.

She sped up even more, but the moment she left the van behind, and the right lane was free again for her to change to it, she didn’t. Instead she kept drawing nearer and nearer to the lorry, and Loki’s heart skipped several beats.

“Natasha!” he screamed again.

He was going to die from car crash with a lorry in the middle of the night in Indiana. Jesus Christ.

“Shut up, I said!” She stole a few more moments on the left lane, clenching the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white, and right when they were about to collide and the lorry’s honking became unbearable, as Loki screamed and Heimdall yelled that he regretted having been an atheist because only God could have saved them, she turned the wheel violently and the car got out of the lorry’s way. Although they didn’t crash for some miraculous reason, the lorry scratched the side of the car, and Loki, could see sparks fly as the SUV’s lock was peeled off with an ear-splitting screeching. One of the bullets that had been aimed at them hit one of the lorry’s front wheels instead, and the vehicle trailed off, jack-knifing before finally capsizing across the road. Under it one of the vans was squashed. The others stopped dead in their tracks, and even though a few men got out and went on shooting at them, the lorry was big enough that very few bullets managed to get past it.

Loki looked back at the lorry, and said, “Holy fuck.”

Heimdall said, “I did not know God was a Russian gingerhead.”

Natasha snarled. “I told you to shut up.”

* * *

Although Loki was convinced that more black vans would spill out of nowhere any moment, they didn’t. Natasha parked in front of an authorised dealer, and walked in only to get out ten minutes after, flashing a charming smile at the vendor as she motioned for them to follow her. Loki, who had spent those ten minutes with his head between his knees trying not to throw up inside the vehicle, got off immediately and fetched his suitcase from the boot. The latter had been dented by several bullets, and the moment Loki touched it, it jerked open. Somehow the suitcases were still inside. Heimdall unloaded both before he could protest, and hurried towards Natasha.

Now they were driving another SUV, this time crimson, which had been paid in cash in the middle of the night by the former occupants of a battered one. If the seller found it suspicious, he excelled at not showing it.

“Fuck,” muttered Natasha as she started the car, giving the man another enchanting grin before incorporating to the traffic. “I liked that car. Careful now, this one isn’t bulletproof.”

“You always travel in bulletproof SUVs?” Heimdall shook his head. “This is as good a moment as any other to freak out about what we have gotten ourselves into, I think.”

“As I said, I used to work for Hydra.” Natasha adjusted the rear mirror while she waited for the traffic light to go green again. “So I know perfectly who’s after me.”

“If that was meant to be reassuring,” said Heimdall, “wrong word choice.”

“It wasn’t.”

It took another hour an a half to reach Shelbyville, and this time Natasha turned the radio on. Imagine Dragons came off from the speakers, but for the first time in his life they didn’t help Loki calm down. Instead it felt wrong, listening to the music he had used to get through high school back when he thought his worst problems were anxiety and lack of a proper self-esteem. Now that he was dealing with kidnapped children, a demented sister, and a secret organization backing the latter as she tried to get rid of him completely, he kind of missed those old days.

He didn’t allow himself to think of Tony. Neither the Tony who taught them Physics nor the Tony who was waiting for him in New York. He pretended this denial wasn’t bursting at its seams.

* * *

James Buchanan Barnes lived in an average flat, in the middle of a mostly inconspicuous town. As Natasha parked and stretched her arms in front of her, finally showing the slightest hint of tiredness, Loki got out and breathed in the cold air of the night, hoping that it would steady him enough not to throw up in the nearest bin. His head was about to explode.

“Man up. Bucky’s waiting.” Natasha gave him a strong pat on the back, and walked past him towards a block of flats. Heimdall followed her, bearing the two suitcases, and it occurred to Loki that they were completely out of place. People were out to kill them, but they bothered carrying suitcases around. It was like something off a bad gangsters film.

Bucky lived in the fourth floor of the block. Natasha took the stairs, while Loki and Heimdall waited for the lift. It was a creaky old thing with flickering lights, that resembled a coffin more than Loki would have liked. Also it was excruciatingly slow, and quivered like an earthquake was shaking the entire town. It was a miracle it didn’t plummet down, and Loki got out dizzier than he had walked in, promising himself to take the stairs from then on.

Natasha was waiting for them by an open door, not a hair out of place, and she was hugging a brown-haired, brown-bearded man slightly taller than her. The moment they broke apart, Loki saw a flash of silver before the man tugged at his sleeve to pull it down.

“So you must be Loki,” said James Buchanan Barnes, staring at him.

Loki nodded.

After a few seconds, James Buchanan Barnes stretched out his hand. “Call me Bucky.”

“And I am Heimdall,” said Heimdall from behind Loki. “In case anyone cares.”

Bucky grinned, and shook Heimdall’s hand too.

Inside his home was nothing out of the ordinary—only, there were flowered curtains in the living room, but for the rest it was normal. Dull, even. Every room was painted in pastel colours, the living room being yellow, the kitchen being blue, the rest of the rooms being green except for the white bathroom. Furniture was scarce, but functional. All the blinds were pulled down, windows closed. Bucky showed Heimdall and Loki the room where they could leave their luggage, then asked them to please sit down somewhere as he prepared something. Natasha helped him make tea. The moment the tray Bucky brought to the living room touched the table, Heimdall claimed the pastries. It felt to Loki like visiting his grandfather.

“Do not dare look at me as if I did not have manners,” Heimdall grunted at Loki when he caught him staring, stuffing another cinnamon roll inside his mouth. “I shhhowed shu shours.”

If he hadn’t been too busy trying to come to terms with the fact that this surrealistic day was real, Loki might have rolled his eyes.

“Well.” Bucky served everyone a cup of tea, but didn’t touch his once he was finished. “Nat brought you here, so I’m guessing you’re in big trouble. Big, bad trouble.”

Loki nodded. “Hydra’s after us,” he said. “Hela… Alright, one second.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, trying to order his thoughts as he made a timeline of memories so that he could explain everything properly to Bucky. “Do you know who I am?”

“Cliché,” said Heimdall, with his mouth full of crumbs.

“Laufeyson, Loki, twenty. Adopted son of Odin Allföðr, heir to the Vernda Börnin orphanage and the Valhalla Foundation sustaining the latter.”

“Right.” Then Loki began to tell his story, carefully leaving Tony out of it as much as he could. As they had never bothered keeping their relationship a secret, Bucky surely knew about them, but still, Loki didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of bringing the details of it up. Apart from not being relevant to the matter, for some reason he feared that the more he let himself think or speak about Tony, the more caught up Tony would be in this mess, thus the greater the chance that Hela would hurt him to get to Loki. And Loki had already caused him enough pain, so he didn’t need any more.

“Phew,” said Bucky when Loki was finished. “And I thought maybe I would go on holiday next week. From the sound of it, you need an extra hand.”

“Which is why I brought them here,” interrupted Natasha. “No one knows more about Hydra than you.”

“You worked undercover there with me for six years,” Bucky said, arching his eyebrow at her.

“But I never got close enough to any of the big fish. Steve and you did.”

Bucky lowered his gaze. “Yeah, and it got him killed,” he muttered.

For a while no one spoke, and Loki realised that now he knew Natasha’s best friend’s name.

* * *

 

Even though Loki didn’t want to sleep, he needed it, so Natasha and Bucky resolved to do all the talking in the morning, when everyone was fresh and rested. Heimdall had zero complaints and went straight to bed as soon as Natasha finished telling them to do so, but for Loki it was harder. He took a shower, unable to believe the amount of dirt that went down the drainpipe, and washed his hair. He brushed his teeth. He said good night to Natasha and Bucky, who waved in return, and left them whispering to each other in the living room. He slid under the covers, and across the room, Heimdall was already snoring.

Even though Loki needed to sleep, he couldn’t.

After tossing and turning in bed for what seemed like ages, Loki reached for his phone. When he opened it he stared at his screensaver. Two young men, full of hope and dreams, and a little white-haired girl, waiting for Hotel Transylvania 3 to start. It was the family Loki had hoped to build and instead had managed to destroy. Then he unlocked the screen, and went to the call register. There was only one incoming call, from a number he hadn’t added to his contact list. He locked the screen again only to turn it on another time and stare at the picture, then unlocked it again to stare at said phone number.

Over and over, he did it until he fell asleep.

* * *

“If we want to rescue your Saga child,” stated Bucky, looking him in the eye, “we’ll quite obviously have to get inside Hydra first. But they’ve put a price on your head and ours aren’t cheap either, so I don’t think we’ll be doing any undercover shit. It would be like showing up tied with a ribbon and holding a note that said, ‘Take me, I'm your target’.”

“So what are we going to do?” asked Loki. “I am not going to let them have her.”

“Great question.” Natasha and Bucky looked at each other. “As there aren’t many viable alternatives that don’t involve more people, we are, in fact, doing undercover shit. Just not the traditional way.”

“Jesus Christ.” Loki ran his hands through his hair. “And what are we going to do? Send the Boy Scouts to wherever these people are hiding, and sneak inside while the children are selling them cookies?”

“No,” said Natasha. “Not the Scouts. I’m certain Heimdall will look captivating in a pizza delivery guy outfit.”

Loki stared at her, but she simply arched her eyebrows.

“We… After we were caught,” explained Bucky, tapping his fingers on the kitchen sink against which he was leaning, “the three of us were hunted down. Natasha and I managed to get out, but—Well.” He closed his eyes for a second, tight, as if in that way he could avoid seeing the memories flash past. “But somehow we managed to save one last secret. They never found out there weren’t three traitors, but five.”

“It’s been a long time since we last heard from the remaining two.” Sipping her coffee, Natasha looked at Loki from behind her eyelashes. “Which most surely means they haven’t been caught yet.”

“Nat, you know they haven’t,” said Bucky, sitting on the counter. “At least, Strange hasn’t. Otherwise it would’ve been everywhere in the news.”

“Jonathan Strange?” asked Heimdall. “Let me guess. The other one is Mister Norrell.”

“Stephen Strange.” Ducking his head, Loki looked at them. “Is it? But—”

“What is a doctor of such renown doing in Hydra?” Bucky shrugged. “Strange was never a part of the original team, it was just us four at first. But one day he came around. Hydra conducts research on shady issues, and apparently they needed a doc. He never helped us directly, never acted, but rather watched carefully and drew conclussions. For some reason he decided we were to be trusted, because when he caught us passing information, he didn’t tell. But he started collaborating with us in his subtle way, leaving copies of the advances he made in the lab where we could find them, so we considered him some kind of ally. Never knew why, never bothered asking. In this world you don’t question. You simply don’t trust charitable people right away, and watch your back twice as carefully.”

In fact, Loki knew Stephen Strange very well. When Frigga had suffered from a sepsis derived from an unsolved appendicitis, he had worked a miracle to save her life. Odin always invited him for dinner, and Strange always politely declined the offer. Apparently there wasn’t a single ordinary person in Loki’s life, except maybe himself.

“We were careful around him for the first year,” went on Natasha. “But he had several chances to betray us he never took. In fact, he covered up the only mistake we ever made. So in the end we trusted him. Not with our secrets, but with our lives. Strange isn’t the type to pick sides, but if he did, he would be on ours.”

“Alright.” Loki bit his tongue softly. “And the other man?”

Exchanging glances, Natasha and Bucky shook their heads at the same time.

“For his own safety,” said Natasha, “we won’t tell you. But he’s reliable. Maybe more than Bucky or I are.”

“Surely.” Folding his arms across his broad chest, Bucky chewed on his lower lip. “He’s the most loyal guy you’ll ever meet. Only Steve could compare. They were a pair of hopeless heroes, the Good incarnated. Us, we simply weren’t villains.”

“Sounds quite lovely,” said Heimdall then. “But I still do not get why I have to deliver pizza to the bad guys.”

“You work up a certain type of routines when you’re on this type of mission. Not out of habit, but out of survival. Our man dines pizza every two Fridays. Bacon and ham, nearly burnt, and margheritta.” Bucky sneezed. “Agh. Eat those peaches away from me, Heimdall, if you don’t mind.”

“One for the message,” added Natasha. “And one for the way out.”

As Heimdall went over the opposite corner of the kitchen to sit at the small table below the window, where Loki sat with an empty mug of coffee in front of him, Loki stole a piece of peach from his plate, and chewed on it thoughtfully.

“So he uses it as a way to receive messages,” he guessed.

Nod, from Bucky.

“Or anything else he might need in case he gets caught.”

Nod, from Natasha.

“And Heimdall will be delivering the message to him this time.”

Nod, from Heimdall.

Loki stared at him.

“What? Even I had figured what the pizza deal was. Nice job, Padawan.”

Bucky laughed at that, and not even Natasha could conceal a small grin. “Very well, both of you.”

“Although Heimdall excelled,” added Bucky.

“Indeed, we'll be dressing up Heimdall as a pizza delivery guy because it’s the only way we have to ensure he gets the message. It’s been a year since we ran from Hydra, so we can’t trust any of the old contacts we had in there. Maybe none have been replaced, maybe all of them, and that includes everyone. So, Heimdall, you’ll be our Peter Parker this Friday.”

Shaking his head, Bucky sighed. “The boy was so nice. He’d always thank us for the tip. Even though he didn’t know what was going on with what he delivered, or that’s what I like to think. I’d hate it if even he had been dragged along into this mess.”

They cleaned the dishes from breakfast, then dressed up and went outside. Shelbyville wasn’t a particularly big or outstanding place, but it wasn’t small, either—everything about it was outrageously _average_. Loki could understand why Bucky had chosen to hide there. From the accent to the neighbourhoods to the local stores to the cars, there wasn’t a single remarkable thing in it. It was as if Shelbyville itself were lying low.

Natasha had tied up her hair in a bun and hid it under a cap, half her face hidden behind big sunglasses, and Bucky had done mostly the same with his short chestnut mane. Loki, having only changed his clothes and showered again, felt exposed, but if they hadn’t warned him against going out dressed regularly, he trusted them. And it was all about looking unsuspicious, anyways, so he guessed it wouldn’t have been any wiser to force things with the dressing up.

* * *

The old house at the end of Hodell Street looked empty and abandoned, nearly engulfed by the forest behind, white painting falling off the front of the house to reveal eaten-away wood. Weeds grew freely in the garden, in stark contrast with the neighbour’s immaculate place, and someone had ripped the mailbox off its pole. Someone had broken a window, presumably the author of at least some of the graffitti that covered the walls of what Loki could only guess had been meant to be a living room. No furniture, no pictures hanging from the walls, no lamps, no carpets. No running water. Nothing that suggested the house was useful for anything but the preservation of termites and several types of mould.

“Mind your step,” warned Bucky when he led them upstairs.

Less than ten seconds later, Loki’s foot sank as the wood gave in. Heimdall suffocated a giggle, while Bucky groaned.

“Dude. That’s what I meant,” he complained. Still, he grabbed Loki's forearm and helped him out of the broken step.

Not only was the second floor in a state as ruinous as the first, but also there were no lights on, nor any window to make up for this. Bucky turned the phone lantern on, and tapped on the ceiling, low enough for him to reach it without any problem, until he found a discreet opening. He pulled down a rope ladder, and climbed up. Natasha went second, then Loki, and finally Heimdall. Once standing in the attic, Loki thought it was strangely small for the house’s dimensions—barely enough for the four of them to be there. But then Bucky pressed a button he hadn’t noticed on the wall, and the pile of old boxes at the corner gave way.

It had been a false wall made of cardboard boxes, and the moment it split in half and opened, things changed enormously. The space the room had been lacking was there, only hidden and full of screens, high technology, and weapons.

“Jesus Christ,” muttered Loki.

“Screaming on a ferris wheel,” added Heimdall.

Bucky grinned. “Welcome to my shack. _Now_ we’re gonna get shit done.”


	11. Accordion Effect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly transition chapter, but do pay attention because there are important details you shouldn't overlook.

“Just for the record,” complained Heimdall for the hundredth time that evening, “I look horrible in red. Blue would have been better.”  
  
Exasperated, Bucky let out a snort right into the microphone. “Alright, Heimdall, I’ll write it down in the list of things I give zero fucks about. Now, could you please just deliver the goddamned pizzas? Please?”  
  
He was with Natasha and Loki in the secret room behind the wall of boxes, in the abandoned house at the end of the lane he had recycled to set up his base of operations. For a while it had been fun to look at the several weapons and high technology Bucky had took to the secret room, but after an hour the original excitement had worn off. Now he was crouching besides Bucky, and his back hurt like hell from the posture. Natasha had been clever enough to take up the only available chair, besides Bucky’s, and she was busy typing something on a laptop. When Loki asked, she shrugged and said he just needed to know that it would come in handy soon.  
  
“Fine.” Far away from them, in the heart of Minnesota, Heimdall rolled his eyes—Loki could almost sense him doing so—and produced a ruffling sound that probably meant he had taken his helmet off. “But choose a different pizza company next time. Telepizza uniforms suck.”  
  
Bucky pulled away from the microphone and whispered, “Can someone please explain to him that I don’t get to choose the fucking uniform?, because me, I’m running out of patience. Guy’s on a possibly one-way trip to the heart of Hydra to deliver tapped pizza, and all he cares about is the goddamn colour of his stolen polo shirt.”  
  
“Peter complained way less,” agreed Natasha, “but Heimdall will have to do.”  
  
Muffling another groan, Bucky focused on Heimdall again. “Alright, this shouldn’t be difficult at all. You just gotta ring the bell, hand him the pizzas, and be gone with the wind.”  
  
“Got it,” said Heimdall. “Sounds pretty easy.”  
  
Natasha stretched her arm across Bucky’s chest to press a key on his keyboard, and with a low humming one of the several screens turned on. It broadcasted live from a fake earring Heimdall wore—and at the moment it broadcasted an approaching door. Although it wasn’t the best angle they could’ve asked for, it had been the less suspicious place to put the camera, so it would have to do.  
  
“Yeah, well. Just get it done and move your ass back here,” said Bucky, rubbing his forehead with the back of his thumb.  
  
“Right.”  
  
Heimdall pressed the button besides the door, and waited. There was a loud ringing noise, then approaching footsteps ushered in by a ‘Be right there, just one sec’. The door was opened wide, and a short, compact man yawned as he looked at Heimdall with curiosity. Besides Loki, both Natasha and Bucky inhaled sharply. Natasha only blinked, but Bucky reached for her hand and squeezed.  
  
“Hey, man.” With a groggy smile, the man standing in front of Heimdall rummaged through the back pockets of his jeans. “You just saved my Friday. Early today, uh? Whatever happened to Peter?”  
  
“Uh.” Heimdall yawned, too. “Sorry, see, I pulled an all-nighter yesterday and your yawn is contagious. Peter fell sick yesterday, and today he phoned to say he would not be coming to work, so here we are. Bacon and ham, and margherita.”  
  
“Yup. Here, twenty bucks. Spare the change, I’m feeling generous today.” Licking his lips, the man handed Heimdall the note as he took the two boxes Heimdall had been holding. “Thanks, and take a nap. You look terrible. Tell Peter to get well from me, will you?”  
  
“Of course.” Heimdall bowed his head slightly. “Bye. Enjoy your dinner.”  
  
“Later, man.”  
  
As Heimdall turned around and walked back to the motorbike, the man slammed the door shut. Behind the screen, Bucky sighed and let go of Natasha’s hand, burying his face in his hands. For a second he looked ten years older. Natasha rubbed his back, closing her eyes, then leaned forwards towards the microphone.  
  
“Well done, Heimdall. Now return to the bus station, where a man named Coulson will pick you up. Whatever he says to you, the first thing you tell him when he opens his mouth is ‘Sokovia’. Alright?”  
  
“Okay,” said Heimdall. “How will I recognise him?”  
  
“Trust me. You will.”  
  
As Heimdall started the engine of his motorbike, Loki sighed and got up. Every bone in his back felt about to crack, and the moment he tried to stretch, he regretted it deeply. Nervous, he walked from one side of the room to the other, trying to breathe evenly. Sitting down and watching as others put themselves at risk to do what he should be doing wasn’t anywhere near cathartic, and until Heimdall was back to shower them with ruthless sarcasm, the feeling that there was a heavy stone inside his stomach weighing him down wouldn’t ease.  
  
There was something else weighing him down—the phone inside the front pocket of his jeans, pricking against his skin every time he moved his leg forwards to take a step. This was the kind of movement he should tell Tony about, because spying on mafias wasn’t something that should be kept a secret from the only person able to get them out of the mess if something went wrong. Still, he wasn’t sure he wanted to involve him this much.  
  
“Loki,” called Natasha, interrupting his internal debate. “Come see this. Hawkeye has gotten the note.”  
  
“Hawkeye?” Loki knelt down besides them. “So that’s his name?”  
  
“No. It’s his codename,” answered Bucky, “but we can’t spend the whole day saying ‘he’ or ‘the brown-haired man’. It’s either confusing or tiring. Anyway, he’s gotten the message, so he should be contacting us soon using the device under the little plastic table of the margherita.”  
  
They waited in silence, and a few minutes later, another of the screens beeped and let out a few seconds of blank noise before going completely black. Bucky frowned and patted the side of the screen, but then Hawkeye pulled his hand away from the device’s camera. The screen now showed a white-tiled kitchen flanked by wooden cupboards and a fridge at the back. Standing very near to the camera was Hawkeye, who looked as average as his kitchen. Brown spiky hair, badly-shaven stubble, dark eyes—there was nothing in him that betrayed his being a double agent infiltrated in a dangerous international organisation.  
  
“Hello, anyone?”  
  
As Bucky was clearly too affected to speak, Natasha cleared her throat and answered. “Hello, Hawkeye.”  
  
“Nat!” Hawkeye covered his mouth with a hand, eyes wide open. “Holy shit, guys, it’s been ages since I last heard from either of you. Is Bucky there, too? Stevie?”  
  
“Bucky is,” she said. “Steve... didn’t make it. They got him when we tried to break away.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
There was a moment of silence.  
  
“Don’t say anything too compromising,” Natasha warned him in the end. “For all we know, there might be microphones in your house. As you’re using an earbud, they won’t hear me, but they can hear you. So get outside as soon as you can without it being suspicious, then call us again. We’ll be waiting for you.”  
  
“Yeah, sure.” There was another moment of silence, and then he added, “I missed you a lot.”  
  
The screen went black again, and Natasha leaned back in her chair. She stared at nowhere for a few seconds, then she went back to typing on her laptop. Bucky got up, and crossed the door to open the door of a mini-bar Loki hadn’t seen before. He got out a can of beer, opened, and gulped half of it down without stopping to take a breath. Then he grabbed another for Natasha, and nodded towards Loki.  
  
“Want anything?”  
  
“No, thanks,” answered Loki. “Uh, I am going to make a call, if that is okay.”  
  
“Yeah, ‘course.” Bucky sipped his beer again. “Though this is the only soundproof room in the house, so I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here. Don’t worry, we won’t be listening. I’ve got headphones somewhere over there—” he pointed at the desk “—, which I’ll be using.”  
  
“Oh. Thank you.”  
  
“Welcome, buddy.”  
  
So one minute after Loki was sitting with his back against the wall, phone against his ear as he waited for Tony to answer. Two beeps, then he answered.  
  
“Loki?”  
  
It hurt. Tony used to call him Lokes. But he had earned this.  
  
“Tony. We are kind of making progress.” Loki then told him about Natasha and Bucky, about them being ex-infiltrates in Hydra, and about Hawkeye being the one thing that might get them inside the organisation. Although he did tell them about the car chasing, he tried not to mention the bullets much. “So now we wait for Hawkeye to call us again, and see whether he can really help us out.”  
  
“Surely he can,” Tony told him. “From what you’ve told me, Natasha and Bucky are quite experimented—and if they were teammates, this Hawkeye guy will be, too. Talking about Hydra, I’ve been doing a little research myself. If I’m being honest, they aren’t the easiest people to hack, but JARVIS is quite clever. Good IA, JARVIS. Freya has turned out to have a gift for computing, so while Frey and Berglind take care of your children, she helps me get through the Hydra firewalls. So far we have a lot of info on the blackmailing they’ve been doing to several big fish, their illegal activities, and more shady issues. We’re trying to get inside their Intranet to see who’s the brains behind all of this, but it isn’t easy. It’s gonna take time.”  
  
“That is actually… Quite useful. But please, Tony, stay safe.” Loki closed his eyes. “It is already horrible to have you mixed up in this. If something happened to you, I would never forgive myself.”  
  
At the other end of the call, Tony sighed. “What am I to do with you, Lokes? One day you’re screaming at me for caring, the next you’re the one caring. But don’t worry. We’re being discreet, Freya and I. Even if they tried, they would never find any evidence that we’ve been inside their system.”  
  
“Good.” _Lokes, he just called me Lokes, so maybe there’s hope? But no you treated him horribly and you’re horrible yourself so say goodbye to your future together, because necessity brought you together but when all of this is over one way of the other Tony will say goodbye._ “Stay safe, Tony. Please.”

  
“Do the same for me, Lokes, will you?”  
  
They didn’t hang up right away, but spent a few minutes listening to each other’s breathing instead. In the end it was Loki who ended the call.  
  
“Heimdall’s on his way already,” informed Natasha. “Coulson picked him up ten minutes ago, so he should be here in a few hours.”  
  
“Hawkeye calling,” announced Bucky. “Let’s see what he has in store for us, yeah?”

* * *

Mighty and powerful, Hawkeye was calling from a public bathroom. Legs folded up against his chest, back hunched forwards, he looked quite similar to the gargoyles atop of European Gothic cathedrals. That is, if European gargoyles ever got to wear faded jeans and a Metallica T-shirt.  
  
“Hey, guys,” he greeted them. “Not the coziest thing there is, but.”  
  
“Must smell delicious,” commented Bucky, grinning. “Man, I can’t wait to see you again.”  
  
“So that means you’ll be returning to Hydra, undercover again? They’ll catch you the moment you set foot in the building again.” Hawkeye looked worried, and as he frowned, several lines of expression deepened in his forehead. “Please tell me the plan’s a different story.”  
  
“It is.” With a sigh, Natasha, threw her head backwards. “But to tell you that story, you must know another one first. How familiar are you with the Allföðr family?”  
  
“Uh. Man, I don’t like this,” panted Hawkeye. He shifted on the WC he was sitting on, hitting his knee against the toilet paper holder. “Everyone’s been nervous lately because of them Allföðrs, and as far as I know, Hydra is plotting against them. After Frigga died it settled down for a while, as you know, but now it’s all coming back. I suspect it has to do with one of the boss’ associates, some woman named Hela. She’s obsessed with that family.”  
  
“You mean Hydra was plotting against my family before my mother died?” Loki darted forwards and grabbed the microphone, startling Bucky.  
  
“Alright, whoever is this?”  
  
Bucky stole the microphone back, glaring daggers at Loki. “Well, sit and listen, because there’s a long story you don’t want to miss on.” Then he told him all about Loki’s situation, letting Loki chime in to add some details himself. Hawkeye listened attentively, biting the nail of his right thumb.  
  
“Holy shit,” he said when Bucky was done. “I leave you alone for one year, and you manage to stumble upon trouble as big as an elephant butt.”  
  
“Sorry to break it to you, but this elephant-butt dimensioned troubled came looking for us,” said Natasha. “Not the other way round. Anyway, this might be our best chance at overthrowing Hydra once and forever. If we can count on Stark’s technology, which we were never able to get before, Zola’s gadgets will only tickle us. Imagine succeeding at last, Hawkeye.” Her eyes gleamed with the light of dreams now. “Imagine returning home, this time to stay. No more being on the run for us, no more struggling to fit in for you.”  
  
Despite his little certainty that this could ever be a good idea, Hawkeye managed a small smile. “Yeah, sounds grand,” he admitted. “But for that we should get down to business.  
  
“I read your letter, and I got the USB. You sure you can manage if I plug it to my own laptop at work? Don’t you need to get any closer?”  
  
Shaking his head, Bucky leaned forwards. “Nat has been working on a software spy. She spent some months learning computing, and besides, Stark is helping us out. He sent us an already programmed software, which we only had to configure so that it will know what to look for when inside Hydra’s database. The program is inside the USB you received, and Nat is giving the last touches to the application that will help us receive and organise the info we get from the Hydra computers. Don’t worry, we got it all sorted out. Your laptop will be more than enough.”  
  
“Alright,” said Hawkeye, shrugging. “I don’t know shit about computing, so up to you. But anyways, what’s the plan for after you get all the info?”  
  
This time Loki, tired of sitting at the back doing either nothing or less than nothing, answered. “The moment we know what their plans are, and the whereabouts of Saga, we will break in their headquarters to rescue her. She is an innocent child, trapped in a crossfire in this sick game of power, and she will stay in danger only as long as I cannot get her out of it. After Saga is safe—well, then we will see how to get rid of Hydra so that they cannot hurt anyone ever again. Hela will be put away somewhere. No one will ever have to fear them again.”  
  
Hawkeye stayed silent for a while, then whistled. “Boy got some balls, eh? Alright, then. Let’s see if we can do this.”

* * *

It had to wait until Monday, for Hawkeye dined pizza on Fridays and he didn’t have to go to the Hydra headquarters on weekends, when he instead worked from home. It was a whole two days of anxiety and the sensation of being caged, of Loki pacing forwards and backwards from one end of Bucky’s flat to the other as if he could get to Saga that way. It was the waiting what killed him. Being unable to do anything but sit and let the hours tick by. Every second he spent inside Bucky’s home, where couldn’t even see the outside world because the blinds were always lowered, was one less second they could count on when they rescued Saga.  
  
But on Monday Bucky took them to the abandoned house in the morning, where Natasha re-programmed the PCs so that they could only receive information, but never send it, or have it either taken away or tracked down. Loki thought Tony would’ve been proud.

“Alright, guys. Let’s do this.” Clapping his hands together, Bucky began turning on several screens, computers, and lamps. Under the artificial lights, and because he had taken off the hoodie and was wearing only a tank top, Loki could see his left arm wasn’t made of flesh—it was a bionic arm, he understood. Bucky was the type to refuse pills even if a migraine was tearing his head apart, so Loki could only imagine the horrible circumstances that must have led him to accept that arm as a part of him.  
  
When Bucky caught him staring, Loki looked away, feeling slightly dizzy. For some reason he felt guilty and rude for noticing Bucky’s arm.  
  
As Hawkeye had said it would be immensely risky and stupid to wear either cameras or microphones to work, because Hydra employees were padded down several times a day in search of anything suspicious, they didn’t know what was happening. So they simply waited until Natasha’s laptop got access to the Hydra Intranet.  
  
“Now, I do not wish to freak anyone out,” said Heimdall, who had been trying out ball pens on a blank notebook until each and every one of them ran smoothly. “But what if the USB arises suspicion? Maybe they notice that it is not the one Birdguy uses regularly.”  
  
“Hawkeye,” reminded him Loki.  
  
“And we took that into account already,” added Natasha, tying up her hair in a bun. “When we worked for Hydra, we all used the same model—white, medium-sized, bought at Best Buy. It’s the one we sent him, so all he has to do is argue that the old one was already full. That is, if anyone really bothers asking, ‘Hey, did you change your USB for an identical one lately?’.”  
  
“Bazinga,” whispered Bucky.  
  
“Hm. Sounds foolproof enough,” admitted Heimdall. Then he began doodling on another blank page, pursing his lips as as he did so.  
  
They were a pretty unlikely team, thought Loki. Two ex-undercover agents, a rich heir on the run, and a butler. Surely Netflix would like to acquire the rights to their story and produce a two-season series. But to negotiate the terms and conditions of that they would have to get out alive first, of course, so maybe the first season would have to wait.  
  
“I’m in,” announced Natasha, and she began typing in her laptop at breakneck speed. Bucky did the same, and Loki, trying not to be as useless as he felt when those two took charge, sat besides Bucky and began organising the information Natasha and Bucky sent him as they decoded it and deloused it—as Bucky referred to the removal of possible viruses, hidden spy programs, and any other thing that could warn Hydra of their presence. Loki’s laptop wasn’t connected to the net, so Natasha and Bucky sent him the information using cables.  
  
There were schedules. There were lists of people. There were accounts. There were blueprints. There were transactions. There were files on many people. There were top secret files they couldn’t afford wasting time to decipher just yet. The amount of information was so great, Loki soon had trouble classifying it in time. Archives rained down on him, and he was trying to get every one of them inside one particular bucket. Soon his fingers hurt, but he managed to keep it moreless under control. It was easier when Heimdall, apparently satisfied with his doodling session, reached for a fourth laptop, plugged it to Loki’s, and somehow split the flux of data between them. As the speed at which he received information slowed down, Loki could finally allow himself to stretch his arms above his head.  
  
“Alright, guys,” said Natasha an hour after. “I believe we’ve already covered the most important part. From where I’m standing, the rest is unimportant to us.”  
  
“Preach.” Raising his hands, Bucky leaned back on his chair, and let out a heavy sigh. “Holy shit. I feel like an eighty-year-old, and I’m barely thirty. You got everything, Loki?”  
  
“I think so,” answered the latter. “There are nine main folders, but beyond that, I still have to figure it out.”  
  
“We can help you with that,” said Natasha, typing a few more commands on her laptop before shutting it off and unplugging the cables. “Surely you could use four extra hands.”  
  
“I choose to assume that you took my help for granted,” chimed in Heimdall, “instead of blatantly leaving me out.”  
  
“Yeah, right.” Bucky got up from the chair and began pacing the room, craning his neck. “Ouch. But maybe we can do this in my house, instead of up here. There are sofas, and air conditioning.”  
  
No one could argue with that.

* * *

Sipping his cold tea, Loki opened another file and skimmed it before classifying it as ‘Sokovia’. Apparently there had been something big going on with that particular city, and there were several documents concerning the details of whatever the something big was. Natasha pressed her lips together when he mentioned this to her, but refused to give him any explanation or context. And Loki was busy enough not to have much time to care, anyway.  
  
It took them the best part of the day to sort everything out, and by the time Bucky announced he was done ordering his share of the stolen data, it was already closed night. As soon as everyone unplugged their laptops, which had been connected to Loki’s to serve as mirrors so that the others could work at the same time as he did with what he had, there was a general rumbling of stomach.  
  
“Maybe we should get something to eat,” suggested Heimdall. “Just an idea.”  
  
“Right.” This was the first time Bucky didn’t roll his eyes at Heimdall’s comment. “In fact, there’s a Wendy’s nearby. Burger sounds good, everyone?”  
  
“Yeah.” Shrugging, Natasha stood up. “I’m taking a shower.”  
  
“Good. Loki, Heimdall.”  
  
“Uh, yeah, anything will do,” said Loki absent-mindedly. Because although he wasn’t on the laptop anymore, suddenly he had remembered something he had read while at the classifying, something he hadn’t paid much attention to at the moment, but that seemed important now. “Without bacon, please.”  
  
“In fact, can I go with you?” Heimdall yawned. “Being trapped in here is driving me nuts. I need to go outside and have some fresh air.”  
  
It didn’t seem to please Bucky, but he nodded all the same. “Good. That way you can help me with the bags. See you later, guys. Get some rest while we’re out.”  
  
As soon as he and Heimdall were gone, and Natasha had locked herself in the bathroom to have her shower, Loki piled their laptops neatly inside the wardrobe Bucky had gotten them out of earlier, and opened all the windows so that the chill of the night refreshed the room. Bucky didn’t like to raise the blinds, so the gaps through which the air went in an out were narrow. Still, he sat right below one and turned the laptop on again, trying to remember what the general context had been in the document he was curious about. It was something about Akukeyri, the Icelandic town the orphanage was in. So he opened the folder labelled “Odin Allföðr”, opening and closing several PDFs until he found what he was looking for.  
  
He frowned as he began reading. There were flight schedules, hotel booking confirmations, a few contracts. When he read them, he came across a name that made his blood freeze in his veins. Hans Einarsson.  
  
As a dark, anxious feeling spread throughout his body, Loki scrolled down the page to read the report below, growing more restless as he did. The more he read, the less he could breathe steadily. It came to a point that he had to set the laptop apart and curl up, head between his knees, as he counted from zero to twenty in English, then in Icelandic, then in French. The knot in his throat eased enough that he could breathe again, but it still felt like an invisible force was choking him. As he inhaled, a sharp pain exploded below his ribs, and he held his torso, his eyes flooded with hot tears.  
  
Then he crawled towards the table, because even if the mere thought of moving made him dizzy, this was something that couldn’t wait. The second he slammed his hand on the table and felt it below his palm, he unlocked the screen and marked the phone number he knew better than his own.  
  
_Please, answer. Please, please, come on, please…_  
  
“Uh.” Although Tony sounded pretty much like mammoths must have back when they existed, it was the most beautiful and reassuring thing Loki had heard in a while. “Uh, Loki. Two calls in three days. On fire, aren’t we?”  
  
“Listen to me,” interrupted Loki, out of breath. “Tony, did you tell anyone you were coming to Iceland?”  
  
“What? No. My father doesn’t even notice when I’m gone for a week, most of the times, and I obviously wasn’t going to tell you. As for the rest of the world, they can go to hell for all I care. Why?”  
  
“And the Njordsens? Did you tell them?”  
  
“No.” Tony was fully awake now. “I bumped into them at the airport, actually. They said they couldn’t wait any longer to tell you that you were in danger, so they had decided to pay a visit, too. As I’d been working elbow to elbow with them for the whole week, trying to find out what the heck was going on with your family, I thought maybe I had mentioned to them at some point that I would be flying to see you soon. But now that I think of it, it was a mostly spontaneous thing, so there’s no way I did.”  
  
Loki let that sink in and closed his eyes. He bit his lip, trying to focus on something that anchored him to reality before he drowned in desperation and anguish. Tony. Tony was real.  
  
“Tony,” he whispered slowly, “the attack on the orphanage was planned. Hydra had been watching you for weeks. Even the bus driver, Hans, was involved. For some reason things didn’t go down as expected, although they did manage to take Saga with them. But the original idea was to… To get rid of you, too.”  
  
For a while Tony didn’t say anything, although Loki knew he was still there.  
  
“Well,” he said coldly. “Who would’ve thought.”  
  
“You have to listen to me, Tony. They are planning to strike again. Stark Tower, tomorrow midnight. You have to get the hell out of there. Get everyone out, go somewhere safe—”  
  
“Loki,” said Tony, cutting him off. “Enough. It’s been a hard week, I understand, but the Njordsens are on our side. They helped us through the evacuation of the orphanage. They’re staying to help Berglind watch over the kids. Freya has managed to hack one of Hydra’s main servers.”  
  
“So have we,” said Loki, desperate. Because there was no way Tony didn’t believe him. Tony always listened to him, and believed him. This couldn’t be. “Tony, if you just let me—”  
  
“No.” The loudness of Tony’s voice didn’t startle Loki as much as the tone, as the aggressivity fueling it. “Just no. You’re angry again, I get it, but vent it at someone else. Stop pushing away the people who’re just trying to help.”  
“Tony—”  
  
“I mean it, Loki. Don’t. Call if you have something rational to say, not just more paranoia.”  
  
Then he hung up.  
  
Loki stared at the phone.  
  
Tony didn’t listen. Didn’t believe him. Anymore.  
  
As the ice spread through his torso, things began to blur around him. Soon there was nothing but shadows, a welcoming darkness, and he allowed it to take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wohoo, there goes nothing. Idk, I just feel like this is a moment as good as any other to thank you for keeping up with this silly thing...? It's starting to have a plot now lmao but anyways thank you for sticking with me <3


	12. Kinetic Frictional Force

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update today bc I'm hitting the road in a few hours and I won't be able to post the chapter later

When Loki woke, he was lying on the couch with a wet cloth over his forehead. Someone had stripped him off his hoodie, leaving him in a T-shirt and faded jeans. This made him realise that before he had been way too hot, which may have caused some of the dizziness.  
  
Not all of it, though.  
  
“Loki!” Heimdall was on his knees besides him the second Loki so much as blinked, checking the temperature of the cloth and rubbing his forearm. “What happened? You were lying on the floor when we came back, your phone besides you, and Natasha did not know what could have possibly knocked you out.”  
  
Teeth chattering, Loki remembered the conversation with Tony, and immediately felt his throat itch with the bitter taste of vomit. He got up immediately and ran towards the bathroom. Inside it was hot and vaguely foggy, presumably from Natasha’s shower, and the humidity stuck to him immediately. In front of the WC Loki dropped to his knees, and his whole body shook as he threw up. But the nausea wouldn’t ease, no matter what. When there was nothing left to puke, Heimdall, who had put his hands on Loki’s shoulders and put a few strands of hair away from his face, gently wiped his mouth with a washcloth, and helped him stand.  
  
“Brush your teeth,” he warned Loki. “Or else the aftertaste might make you vomit again.”  
  
Although it took him some effort, Loki did as he was told, clumsy as he tried to put the toothpaste on the brush. It was Heimdall who did it for him, and held his right hand as Loki tried to reach every corner of his mouth. That way he made sure there would be no aftertaste. And he kept himself busy.  
  
Natasha and Bucky helped him to the couch when he exited the bathroom, and patiently sat across from him, without pressing him to tell them what had happened. Untouched, several hamburgers were getting cold on the table. Fries had been his favourite thing in the world since he was little, but Loki couldn’t look at them now without feeling another wave of nausea.  
  
“Everything was planned,” he muttered in the end. “The attack on Vernda Börnin—Heimdall, even Hans was involved. He has been watching us all the time, until he figured which of the children was closer to me. Hydra knew all the time, they were in danger all the time…” His voice thinned and thinned until there was no sound left, and he held his head, trying to make the world stop spinning around. “And they were going to kill Tony that night. The Njordsens, they worked for Hydra all along. Tony did not tell a soul he was coming to Iceland, but they still somehow bumped into him. It is the kind of thing they could have never known if they had not been spying on him.”  
  
“Are you sure?” asked Natasha softly. “It’s not because I don’t believe you, but if we have proof, it’s weapons we can use against them. Everything we’ve found is legally binding, and nearly enough to shut Hydra down forever. If you have something that proves these Njordsens’ involvement with the organization, it’ll make it easier to prosecute them.”  
  
For all answer, Loki pointed at his laptop. Bucky rose and took it, and as he and Natasha read the document on Akukeyri that Loki had come across, their faces sombered.   
  
“Fuck,” said Bucky in the end. “They really were one step ahead of you.”  
  
“Because we never knew there was any kind of threat to us or the children,” answered Heimdall, shaking his head. “It was easy for them, because we were not expecting to be spied on, plotted against, and ultimately attacked.”  
  
“With this,” said Natasha slowly, “you’re proving that Hydra is also into transnational crime. Not only the US justice, but also the Icelandic, will be able to claim their heads. If we do things right, this can classify as a crime against humanity, especially when there are innocent children involved. Together with the Sokovia documents, this makes a solid base for an appeal to international justice. We can get to the International Criminal Court”  
  
Bucky winced. “Nat, the U.S. withdrew their signature.”  
  
“Whatever. Iceland didn’t, so if we get Iceland to appeal, it will work. And trust me—if there are Icelandic children who have been attacked, Iceland is going to appeal.”  
  
“Lottery.” Bucky shook his head, grinning. “We’ve won the lottery, then. After all these years.”  
  
But Heimdall and Loki couldn’t share their glee. Heimdall helped Loki lie back again on the couch, and applied the wet cloth again. “Something else happened, right?” he said gently. “Something that made you pass out.”  
  
“I tried to warn Tony,” Loki whispered, in such a tiny voice that Natasha and Bucky had to lean forwards to hear him. “As soon as I knew they had been planning on getting rid of him, I phoned him. He had to know. But he just… Did not take it seriously. He said I was paranoid, and that I should stop trying to push away those who are just trying to help. When I said the Njordsens were most likely behind what happened at the orphanage, he would not listen to me.” He sniffed, feeling hot tears trail down his cheeks. “He simply would not listen.”  
  
“Oh, Loki.”  
  
Heimdall carefully kissed Loki’s forehead, then rubbed his forearm. Loki looked at him, and in his eyes he saw the same kind of broken trust he was feeling inside. Because Heimdall had been a friend of Tony’s, yes, but before, he had been Loki’s best friend. And if Loki hurt, then he hurt, too.  
  
“Not to play the devil’s advocate here,” said Bucky. “But from what you told us, Tony has been trying to hack Hydra, too. Maybe he did find out about your Njordsens, but can’t act on it. Think of it—if it were me, and I found out, it would fuck me deeply, but I wouldn’t do a thing. The moment I did, Hydra would suspect something is wrong. There’s a possibility that this is why he didn’t listen, don’t you think?”  
“Yeah,” said Loki weakly. “Yeah, maybe.”  
  
But no. He didn’t think so. Because Bucky hadn’t heard the exasperation, the tiredness in Tony’s voice. Because Tony had always been transparent when it came to Loki. And this time, through that transparence Loki could see Tony had finally grown sick of him.   
  
Maybe they should have broken up from the beginning, in the end.

* * *

After Heimdall helped him through half of his hamburger, and under the worried stares of Natasha and Bucky, Loki went to bed early. Suddenly he couldn’t bring himself to care much about anything beyond the throbbing pressure in his chest. Just like when he was a little kid, Heimdall wrapped him up in the linen sheets—no blankets, because it was hot, actually—, then sat besides him and reassuringly ran a hand up and down Loki’s arm.  
  
“Did you think this would end up happening?” Loki asked him after a while in silence. Heimdall had been humming quietly, and he stopped.  
  
“What do you mean, ‘this’?”  
  
“Us. Tony and I. Being over.”  
  
For a while, Heimdall was quiet. “I do not think you are over. See, there is a misunderstanding the size of Manhattan. But remember what Bucky said. This might not be about you, and about his feelings for you, Loki. Wait for him to have a chance to explain. In person. And if he tells you what you think he will, then you will be over. Not a second earlier than that.”  
  
“Huh.” Loki curled up a little tighter.  
  
“You asked him to trust you when you put the relationship on hold. Now I believe he needs you to trust him. Sleep, Loki. It has been a rough couple of months, and things will get worse before they get better. So gather your strength. You are going to need it soon.”

* * *

The next morning Natasha and Bucky politely asked whether he was feeling better, and when Loki answered elusively, they didn’t press him any further. Instead they began discussing what they had found as they went through the archives they had downloaded from Hydra’s Intranet the day before.  
  
“Apart from a lot of proof that they are into shady business,” said Natasha, “we have also found blueprints of the Hydra headquarters. Apparently they are in Minnesota, which means Hawkeye has been able to infiltrate to an extent we could’ve only dreamt of. I’m trying to build a virtual 3D model with those blueprints. When we get inside, we will know where to go.”  
  
“Besides,” added Bucky, “we know all the schedules. We know when the meetings take place, when the building is cleaned. Most importantly, we know when it’s the most empty. Not only will we know where to go, but also when.”  
  
Hands curled around a mug of coffee, Loki nodded. “And do you know where Saga is?”  
  
“We aren’t done revising the files just yet,” said Natasha. “But as soon as we find anything on her, we’ll tell you, and begin working on the best way to get her out.”  
  
“Unfortunately, it won’t be easy.” Bucky poured himself some coffee too, and ran his bionic hand through his hair. With only a rumpled sleeveless T-shirt and sweatpants on, he looked very young, almost too young to be involved in the kind of mess they were discussing. “There are literally thousands of cameras in the building, which we’ll have to take care of. After all, Hawkeye allowed us a peek at their Intranet, but we can’t move from there. It’s like we’ve gotten permission to peer through the windows, which isn’t enough if we’re trying to disconnect the alarms.”  
  
Tapping on the table with her long nails, Natasha cupped her cheek with a hand. She seemed to be distracted today, Loki noted, and usually she was the most focused one. Something was off with her, but he knew better than asking directly.  
  
“Anyway, when whatever has to happen happens, we’ll need to be ready,” she determined in the end, looking away from the nothingness. “So I hope you’re in a good shape, guys. Also, this is a serious warning: there will be weapons involved. You saw Hydra the other day—they aren’t afraid of killing whoever stands in their way. If they get the chance to get rid of you so that you aren’t an obstacle anymore, they will take it. They won’t hesitate, but maybe you will. Think about it before you jump in head first. Maybe you will have to make them bleed.”  
  
Neither Loki nor Heimdall had the heart to answer her right away. She got up shortly after, and left her cup in the sink before walking over to the living room to turn Loki’s laptop on and go on foraging through Hydra’s secrets. After a moment of hesitation, Bucky followed suit. But before leaving the kitchen, he stopped on the doorway and turned around to say, “I know it’s difficult, Loki. Things seem to be black or white, and from where you’re standing, Tony is most definitely black. But trust me when I say there’s a whole scale of greys. Maybe you don’t understand now, but I’m sure your man had his reasons to act as he did. And I’m sure you’ll know in time.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Bucky nodded, then left.

* * *

Heimdall and Loki spent the next two weeks training down in Bucky’s secret basement, at the end of the lane. Although it offered the same terrible aspect as the rest of the house, and despite the atrocious stiffness that followed their first days, both had enjoyed going out for runs at Iceland, to clear their minds and have some time alone before returning to the children, and their muscles remembered this soon. Bucky designed a routine for them, so that they wouldn’t overdo it. And maybe they weren’t going to win any weightlifting contest, but they could stand a chance against Hydra soldiers—or so they hoped.  
“You will,” Bucky assured them. “Trust me, the mercenaries are never in the headquarters. They’re out there, hunting people down, not guarding the emergency exit. The guys in the buildings, they have shotguns, but they aren’t great at hand to hand fights.”  
  
“Good to know.” As he rubbed some sweat off his forehead, Heimdall snorted. “So we only have to hope they do not shoot at us before we can convince them to lower the gun and try a little punching.”   
  
Bucky chuckled, then began the daily lesson on body combat.  
  
Soon, Natasha finished the 3D replica of the Hydra headquarters, which she showed them not without pride. “I wanted to incorporate the routes the guards follow, too,” she said, “but that’s way out of my league. So you’ll have to make a little effort of imagination.”  
  
If the schedules they had hacked were correct—and they were—, the best moment to attack would be on a Sunday evening. “But,” said Natasha, handing them a clipped set of papers, “we made a mistake. We took for granted that Saga would be kept there, and she isn’t.”  
  
Loki’s heart missed a beat. “No? And where is she?”  
  
Foreseeing the upcoming panic attack, Heimdall rested his hand on Loki’s shoulder to calm him down.  
  
“Hydra keeps all the hosts in the middle of nowhere,” explained Natasha, “and Saga is no exception. They have moved her to Duluth, to the warehouses in the harbour, Superior Bay. The headquarters aren’t far away—in the middle of Taft, which is supposedly a green area within Duluth. Problem is, we can’t simply go to the warehouses, as they are quite obviously heavily guarded. Besides, if we want not only to rescue Saga, but to make Hydra fall, I’ll need to get inside the building and search for more proof. These papers are a lot, but they’ve committed greater crimes. If we can get our hands on something that documents at least one, then they’ll be history. So you can imagine breaking in isn’t an option. It’s a necessity.”  
  
“Besides,” added Bucky, “if we find out who the brains behind Hydra is, we’ll be able to investigate much further. Our superior is already preparing the case that will bring them to court, but he needs to know who he should be bringing to court.”  
  
“Superior?” asked Loki, confused.  
  
Exchanging a glance, Natasha and Bucky seemed to have a silent conversation. In the end Natasha shrugged and leaned back against the couch, giving in. “Yeah,” said Bucky. “Even if we’re lone wolves now, we didn’t infiltrate in Hydra seven years ago just because we had nothing better to do. No names, but trust us. The people we work for know their business.”  
  
“Uh. Right.”  
  
Natasha began searching through the several papers she had spread on the living room table, and when she was satisfied, she cleared her throat.  
  
“Alright, so here’s the plan. Obviously we really need to break inside the headquarters, but we can’t leave your Saga behind in the warehouses, and besides, I highly doubt you’ll want to cooperate if we even so much as hint at doing so. So we’re splitting up. Bucky and you will be going to the warehouse first, while Heimdall and I break in the headquarters to hack their system. Heimdall, we’ll discuss the details later. But now let’s focus on Bucky and Loki.  
  
“Bucky, Loki, you’ll need to be patient. I’ve tried to find something on the warehouses, but the only mention of them was in the document that said Saga was being kept inside one of them. There are seven of them, but we don’t know which one is she in. We don’t know, either, the number of watchmen or their rounds, so before doing anything you’ll have to spend a night or two simply observing. Don’t let it fool you, Loki,” she said upon seeing Loki’s face. “Even if observation sounds easy and useless, it’s possibly the best weapon you’ll have.”  
  
It didn’t sound like a deadly weapon, but Loki knew better than pointing this out. Still, Natasha must have sensed his reticence, because she sighed.  
  
“You’ll have to learn the guards’ routines from sheer observation, and also the kind of gunfire they have. It’s not the same to face an ACR than to face a simple Springfield XD. Bucky, you always had a great eye for that.”  
  
“And I still do,” he said. “I’ve kept an eye on the gun business, don’t worry. Soon I’ll be able to distinguish them by the sound of them shooting.”  
  
“Good.” Natasha folded her arms across her chest. “Try not to be the target when they do shoot. Now, Heimdall, you and me. We’ll probably have to deal with less experienced people, thus less lethal, but there’s still danger. For you and I, the greatest threat isn’t the getting in, but the getting out. It’s a big building, and the chances of being caught are frighteningly high. We’ll get in using the air ducts.”  
  
“Cliché,” said Heimdall.  
  
“But highly effective,” counterattacked Bucky. “To the present day, I haven’t met a single soul who installs cameras inside the air ducts.”  
  
“Cannot really answer to that.” Shrugging, Heimdall made Natasha a sign to go on speaking.  
  
“Once we’re on the floor we want, we’ll try to get as close as possible using the air ducts, but then we’ll have to get down to the actual corridors. The fourth floor has a completely independent ventilation system, so I bet there’s where the important things are. So we’ll get outside the air ducts in the third floor, then use the stairs to access the fourth. Most probably there will be some kind of restriction of access, which we’ll have to figure out. Hawkeye’s working on it, but don’t be too hopeful. One wrong move, and he’ll be caught, so he’s not going to send us an access card inside an envelope.  
“There were no blueprints of the fourth floor, reasonably enough, so once there we’ll have to be both cautious and fast. I expect there will be heavy watch, plus the fact that we’ll have to find out by ourselves which is the room we’re looking for. As we don’t know that, we can’t use the air ducts to get in, but we will have that option to get out. Though if we do, we’ll be relying on memory, so you’ll have to trust me.”  
  
“From the sound of it, I’ll have to trust you the whole time,” said Heimdall. “But fine, by me.”  
  
Satisfied, Natasha nodded. “Once we get all the info we need, we immediately get the hell out of there. I don’t think there’s any need to remind you this, but still, you must obey whatever order I give you. No questioning. A second of hesitation can get us both killed.”  
  
“Aye, sir,” said Heimdall.  
  
After they discussed a few more details on both operations, Bucky and Loki retired to get some sleep, as they’d be spending the night awake and alert, watching the warehouses, and before that they’d have to drive to Minnesota. Before Loki closed the door of his room, Bucky stuck a foot between the door and the frame. Loki looked down at his bare fingers, then at him.   
  
“Yes?”  
  
Nervous, Bucky shifted on his other foot.  
  
“Remember I told you about our other teammate, Steve, who had been killed while be broke away when they caught us?” He waited for Loki to nod. “Well, I… Nat is convinced that they killed him the moment they got their hands on him, but I don’t believe so. If Stevie had died, I would’ve known, I’m sure.”  
  
“What are you trying to tell me, Bucky?”  
  
Instead of answering right away, Bucky glanced at Natasha over his shoulder, then proceeded to tell him in a quiet voice.  
  
“Loki, I think Steve is still alive. Inside one of the warehouses. And I need to get him out.”  
  
“Okay.” Whatever Bucky expected him to say, it wasn’t that, clearly, because he seemed to deflate.  
  
“Listen to me. If Tony had been caught and you knew it, if you had the chance to save him… Wouldn’t you?”  
  
“Of course,” blurted Loki without even thinking about it. “Of course I would.”  
  
“And I would help you. Only, it’s the other way round. It’s Steve who’s been caught, it’s me who has the chance to save him. Will you help me?”  
When Loki looked into his eyes, they were desperate and pleading. Suddenly Bucky looked tired and helpless, and Loki thought he understood. In fact, he understood. Painfully well. Because Bucky was right, and if it had been Tony, if Loki had stumbled upon a chance to save Tony from Hydra, he would be on his knees, begging Bucky to help him free the man of his life. And Bucky would most surely say yes.  
  
So Loki said, “Yes. Count on me, Bucky. We will get him out.”

* * *

On their way to Minnesota, Bucky slept while Loki drove. Natasha had helped him cut and dye his hair, which wouldn’t be of much help in case someone recognised him, but would hopefully make it a little more difficult for anyone to recognise him. Without his dark mane spilling on his shoulders, his head felt strangely light. And although he had never really thought of becoming a blond, it wasn’t as terrible as he had feared. Shocking, definitely, but it could’ve been worse. When he first saw himself, he ran a hand through his hair carefully and wondered what Tony would have thought. Then he remembered Tony most likely didn’t want to know about his haircut, and let his hand and heart fall.  
  
It was late in the evening, and already the sky was shifting from dark orange to deep blue. As he passed a board that announced the next exit was the one he needed, he turned the radio on. Some music couldn’t hurt. He didn’t know the group nor the song, but it falling somewhere between hard rock and metal, he did like the inherent aggressivity in every word. Apparently the singer was hurting as much as him. Screamos weren’t his thing, really, but the rest of the song was surprisingly good. After a lifetime of indie, folk, and ballads, it was a whole new world for Loki. He made himself a mental note to go a little deeper into rock later.  
  
“Here we are,” he said as he parked the car in front of a hotel. “Bucky, wake.”  
  
“Huh.” Bucky rubbed his eyes, and was immediately wide awake. “How far are the warehouses?”  
  
“Fifteen minutes by foot, but I guessed it would be slightly suspicious if we parked the car near the harbour and left it there all night long.”  
  
“Clever kid.” Bucky patted him on the shoulder twice. “You’re beginning to think like a spy. Come on, then. Let’s book a room.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“If you saw two men park in front of a hotel, then disappear for the whole night, wouldn’t it be suspicious as well? We book a room, we have dinner, then we use the emergency stairs to sneak away.”  
  
As they entered the hotel, Bucky carrying the sports bag they had prepared before departing, Bucky suddenly grabbed Loki’s hand. “Trust me,” he said in his ear, then giggled as if he had said something extremely funny. When they approached one of the women behind the curved desk, she stared at them intently.   
“Good night, welcome to Raddison Hotel. Have you made any reservation?”  
  
“Oh, well, I think we haven’t. Have we, Felix?”  
  
Loki shook his head, and tried to smile. “No, darling, I believe we haven’t. Any free rooms, uh… Adelaide?” he asked, leaning forwards slightly to read the woman’s name.  
  
“Let me see,” she said, typing on the keyboard as she scanned the screen. “Alright. One bed, I guess.”  
  
“Of course.” Bucky smiled at Loki seductively, bumping his shoulder against Loki’s.   
  
The woman opened her eyes slightly wider, but didn’t make any comment. “We do have several. Second floor, room 217, sounds good? Or would you rather a higher floor?”  
  
“No, no, that one is perfect,” said Loki.  
  
“As long as you are inside,” added Bucky playfully, biting his lower lip as he looked at Loki. He ducked his head and several dark waves slid off his neck, exposing his skin. And despite his heartbreak and the fact that Bucky was absolutely not his type, Loki felt himself blush. “Oh, cute.”  
  
“Here’s the key,” interrupted the woman. “Dinner will be served until eleven AM, although you can go to the bar as well for something more informal. The parking is free, and so is the WiFi. You can use TV, as well, but that will be paid for separately.  Here you have the key to it. As for the price…”  
  
Loki got out his wallet, and handed her the credit card with the name Félix González on it. For a second he feared it might not work, but then the lady handed him the device so that he could type his secret number, and it was perfectly right.  
  
“Very well. Enjoy your stay,” she wished them with a smile, so obviously fake it was nearly ridiculous.   
  
Bucky waved at her and pulled Loki along towards the elevator, and as the doors closed, he leaned towards him as if to kiss him on the mouth. Instead his lips brushed Loki’s cheek as he whispered, “Well done. Did you see her face? Holy fuck, she was about to have a heart attack.”  
  
“I suspect she is having one as we speak,” answered Loki. Conscious that they were still holding hands, he let go of Bucky’s. “I am almost sorry for her.”  
  
Frowning, Bucky changed the sports bag from his left shoulder to his right one. “Well, I’m not. She can hate homosexuals all she wants in her free time, that’s her problem, but she can’t let her homophobia affect the way she treats the clients. A little ruder, and I would’ve asked for the complaint form. By the way, this crappy elevator is slow as hell.”  
  
The door opened, and Bucky let Loki exit the elevator first before walking out himself. When they walked inside the room they had booked, it was pleasantly neat—two little lamps cast a warm light, each on one of the nightstands to either side of the bed. Both the walls and the carpet were a faded shade of the colour of peanut butter, with different motifs in black. Bucky left the sports bag on the bed, then threw himself atop of it.  
  
“Worth every dollar,” he commented. “Pity we can’t stay and sleep, because I could use a nap.”  
  
“Another one?” Loki asked, shaking his head. “You slept all the way.”  
  
“Yeah, well, but sleeping in the car is the same as not sleeping at all. And my back is killing me from the posture. But whatever.”  
  
“You can nap while I take a shower,” Loki suggested, “then we have dinner. And about ten, we come back here. Sounds good?”  
  
To his great surprise, Bucky opened his eyes wide. “Holy shit, it sure does. Nat would’ve given me the death glare if I’d suggested it to her.”  
  
Loki smiled sheepishly. “See you in a while, then,” he said, but Bucky was already getting comfortable and closing his eyes. So he went inside the bathroom, and let the cold water wash away all concerns and distractions. Now he needed to be focused. Saga’s freedom, and possibly her life as well, depended on it. And he was not going to fail her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Bucky bonding over freaking out homophobes is my spirit animal istg my children
> 
> Also, long live drama and angst and everything unhappy
> 
> By the way, I've noticed less of you are still reading...? :( Anyway, shoutout to those who do stick with Loki and me, because I love you a lot and just wait for chapter 16, just finished writing it and I blew my own mind.


	13. Bose-Einstein Condensate

Lying on his stomach for hours wasn’t Loki’s idea of a good night. Still, Bucky broke the silence after three hours and a half of vigilance to say, “A good night, eh?” Loki arched his eyebrows as he looked at him in obvious disbelief, and shook his head slightly before holding up the binoculars again.

Inside the sports bag had been not only two extra sets of clothes and Bucky’s wallet, but also two small guns, a larger one, a few knives, and two sets of binoculars with matching night vision contact lenses. It had taken Bucky twenty minutes to put them on to Loki, as the latter had never used contact lenses, and they were annoying as hell, despite being soft. “Don’t cry so much,” had said Bucky, frowning. “Mine are semi-rigid. Those are like wearing nothing.”

“I had never heard about night vision contact lenses,” commented Loki, blinking as he tried to get used to the disgusting sensation. He got up from the edge of the bathtub and exited the bathroom to walk around the room, hoping that it would distract him enough to forget about the lenses a little. “How do they work?”

“Be in the intelligence business, then we’ll talk,” said Bucky, smiling. “These are one of the latest models. With them you can see regularly while there’s light, but in the middle of the night they turn on automatically. It’s much more discreet than wearing those giant goggles we had to use back in the old times. When I went on my first mission, it was nearly impossible to spy on anyone at night—it was preferable to intervene the house.”

“Wait. How old are you, then?”

Instead of answering, Bucky had offered him a big grin, and motioned for Loki to follow him to the emergency exit at the end of the corridor.

And now they were on the roof of the Altec Industries building, using regular binoculars to watch the men watching over the warehouses on the other side of the road. Many were inside cars and lorries, pretending to be asleep, although Loki could see they were wide awake and alert if he paid enough attention. Most had a gun either in their, or at, hand. Others were outside, smoking and talking, although they constantly turned their heads to watch for any possible intruders. A few were doing actual rounds, disguised as security guards. In total there were around forty men, and all looked bored enough that taking down an intruder would most probably be welcomed, to shake off the monotony a little.

Between Loki and Bucky were two notebooks, in which they took good note of any change in position between the guards, the time at which they did it, and how long it took. Bucky, who was far more experienced in spying than Loki, had also done a quick sketch of the place, and marked the positions of the guards they could see. But there were more on the other side, of that much Loki was sure. And there would also be more inside.

“Hey,” whispered Bucky. “Blondie. Have this.”

He handed Loki a wireless headset microphone.

“What for?”

“As you have most probably realised, we’re only getting an incomplete view of the warehouses. There are more guards, and maybe more entrances, on the other side, which is what I’m going to check out. I’m taking my notebook, so quick, copy the sketch on the positions in case there are changes.”

While he copied it, and Bucky kept watching in case there was another shift in position, Loki said, “Be careful.” He finished copying and, when he compared the two drawings, his made him cringe.

“Of course, Félix, love.” Bucky stifled a laugh. “Listen. Whenever you want to contact me, you keep this button here pressed.” He took Loki’s hand and guided it to the left earbud, where he rubbed his fingers against the plastic gently until Loki felt the button Bucky was talking about. “If it isn’t pressed I won’t hear a thing. Because the myc is so sensible, try not to use it if you don’t want to say anything. Hearing another person breathe when you’re alone is creepy.”

“Alright, got it. Button pressed, no unnecessary calls.”

“Yup. Also—if things get rough, if for some reason I get caught, I will say ‘Rogers’. You hear that, you fucking vanish. Heard me?”

“And if I get caught, I will do the same.” Loki nodded. “What does ‘Rogers’ mean?”

Bucky didn’t stop watching the men, but Loki could see his sad smile in the dark.

“Nothing in particular, really. It’s Steve’s surname.” He pulled backwards, never standing, and began crawling towards the other end of the rooftop. Against his back, inside a very small backpack, were the notebook, the pencil he was using, a watch, and his own microphone. “Later, alligator.”

“In a while, crocodile,” whispered Loki, going back to watching the men under the wing of the night. Just do not get caught.”

* * *

 

It was about to dawn when the men standing guard began to retire, slowly, until only fifteen were left. Loki took good note of the new positions as the remaining ones walked up to the doors of the warehouses and ditched all craftiness, their weapons clearly visible in their hands and inside the holsters at their waists.

“Loki,” whispered Bucky in his ear. Having forgotten with the quiet of the night that he was still wearing the microphone, Loki nearly jumped at the sudden voice in his ear. “Take good note. From 7:00 AM to 7:05 AM, the back of the warehouses have no vigilance. At all.”

“It is the changing of turns,” said Loki. “More than half of the men are gone, and the rest are standing next to the doors. Their guns are out.”  
There was a loud ‘screech’ as a luxurious black car skid to a stop in front of the warehouses. One of the back doors opened, and a tall, lean woman got off, her hair long and straight and the exact colour of Odin’s in his youth. With his binoculars, Loki saw her bright red lips curve into a sly smile, her emerald eyes narrowing as she put on black sunglasses to protect herself from the rising sun.

Hela stepped towards the warehouses, and the men guarding the third door from the right saluted her before stepping aside to allow her in. She barely fluttered her fingers at them before going in. As she closed the door, Loki tried to steal a peek at the inside of the warehouse. He saw nothing, but somehow he knew that Saga was inside, and that Hela was paying her a visit.

Blood boiling in his veins, he pressed the button of his microphone and muttered, “Bucky, that is Hela, and I am sure that the warehouse she just entered is where they are keeping Saga.”

“Which of them?” whispered Bucky back. “I’m on the other side, I couldn’t see her.”

“Third from the right. From your left, I mean.”

“Alright, got it. Someone turned on the lights. I’m trying to see something through the windows, but they’re too high.”

Loki chewed on his lower lip, and didn’t press the button again. Instead he squeezed his eyes and stared at the door, almost as if willpower alone could force Hela to open the door wide and show him whether his little girl was inside or not. Obviously it couldn’t, but he didn’t relax the slightest.

Ten minutes went by before Hela exited the warehouse, serious this time. She walked back to the black car, which had been waiting for her, and as soon as she got up and closed the door they were speeding up towards the end of the harbour. When she was out of sight, the men guarding the warehouses changed their positions again, pretending to be regular, morning people one more time. All guns and holsters disappeared from sight, and a few even got inside a lorry and drove away. Very few remained, but the ones who did spread out in a way that allowed them full sight and control over at least two of the warehouses. Loki took note of their new position, and glanced at his watch. 7:21 AM. He wrote this down too.

At 8:00 AM Bucky whispered that it was time to leave. Loki crawled backwards the way Bucky had several hours before, stuffing the notebook, the pencil and the microphone inside the backpack before closing the latter and putting it on. Carefully he used the piping they had used to go up to do the opposite, and once down, he followed Bucky’s instructions to walk away from the Altec Industries building.

“Hey there,” said Bucky when they met near the end of the portuary area. “Feeling well?”

“More or less,” answered Loki, stifling a yawn. “Although I could use a nap too, now.”

Bucky chuckled. “Don’t worry, we have the whole day to sleep. Let’s get to the hotel to have a decent breakfast.”

* * *

 

When they returned Loki went for the main entrance without thinking, but Bucky grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pushed him towards the emergence stairs, which they climbed up to the third floor. Bucky made sure there wasn’t a soul in the corridor before opening the door and quickly getting inside, holding Loki’s waist as they got in. He laughed like a kid in love and rested his face against the crook of Loki’s neck, which made Loki nervous. Extremely nervous. The second they entered the room and closed the door, Bucky broke the contact, but Loki could still feel his hands on him.

“One day you will explain to me why you love to touch me so much,” he said in what tried to be a casual tone. Instead it came out way… Wrong. Like it annoyed him.

Already pulling of his T-shirt, dirty from lying on the rooftop all night long, Bucky stared at him. “Does it bother you?”

“No! No.” For some reason Loki blushed. “But I am curious.”

“There are cameras in the corridors,” explained Bucky, hands on his now naked waist. “So if they catch us sneaking in through the emergency exit this early, I’d rather have them think we come from a wild night outside, half drunk and light-headed enough to behave like children who use the back door so their parents won’t see them, than suspect we’re into something shady. That is, shadier than gayness.”

Oh. “For some reason, I suspect you have not forgotten about Adelaide just yet, or have you?” Loki crossed his arms across his chest and tilted his head, feeling ridiculous and self-conscious for having thought that maybe Bucky touched him because he genuinely liked him. Not in the romantic sense, even, but as friends. Heimdall touched him to reassure him, often, and Loki had thought maybe, just maybe, Bucky was doing the same.

But he guessed they were together out of necessity, not out of friendship.

“Of course I haven’t. Fuck her homophobia, really.” Bucky shook his head. “Anyway, I’m gonna shower before we go down for breakfast. Dragging myself along rooftops and spying on people all night long always ends up with me looking like I just crawled through hell.”

Bucky grabbed a set of clean clothes from the sports bag at the end of the wardrobe, and went inside the bathroom, patting Loki on the back as he passed him by.

While Bucky showered and sang what Loki thought might be an offbeat version of The Beatles’ A Hard Day’s Night, Loki got out his phone to call Heimdall. Instead he ended up staring at his screensaver, at the smiling little girl with the white hair and blue eyes, until Bucky walked out of the bathroom ready to have some scrambled eggs and bacon.

“So what is the plan for today?” asked Loki as they ate. There was very little on his plate, especially compared to the pile of eggs, bacon and ham piled atop two toasts on Bucky’s.

Bucky gulped down half his espresso before answering. “We’re obviously going to sleep,” he said. “I’m pooped, dude. In the evening we can go out for a romantic walk around, and call Nat and Heimdall to update them. Then I’m afraid we’ll return to our dearest rooftops. Sorry, Félix, love, I know it’s not the ideal date, but...” He pursed his lips and blew Loki a kiss.

He was quiet for a moment. And Loki could somehow read his silence. He dropped the fork besides the plate and reached for Bucky’s hand, rubbing his knuckles and hoping it was less clumsy and more comforting than he felt it was.

“We are going to get Steve,” he said, with a certainty even he was surprised by. “You will see. Saga and he will be alright, and with us, in no time.”

“I…” For the first time since Loki had met him, Bucky seemed to have run out of words. He nodded, and swallowed. Although this time he wasn’t drinking his coffee. “Thank you.”

They finished their breakfast in silence, then walked past the main entrance on their way to their rooms holding hands just to enjoy Adelaide’s face. Bucky even winked at her, which caused Loki to silently choke from laughter.

“Thirty-six,” said Bucky suddenly as they waited for the elevator. Loki looked at him, curious, and he shrugged. “You asked about my age. I’m thirty-six.”

“Oh.” As the doors opened and they walked in, Loki said, “You look younger.”

Grinning widely, Bucky ruffled Loki’s hair. “You’re a self-esteem boost, boy.”

Loki had never considered himself such, and as he followed Bucky to their room, he couldn’t help smiling at the thought of being something else besides a burden. It felt good.

* * *

The next night confirmed nearly every note they had taken, and since he was on the other rooftop the whole time, Bucky was able to complete those they had on the activity at the back of the warehouses. Hela didn’t visit this time, but another man did. Bucky had been informing Loki, and suddenly Loki heard his breath catch. Bucky whispered, “Strucker,” and his voice oozed so much hate, Loki couldn’t help shivering.

Later, when they were back at the hotel comparing notes, and as Bucky worked on the first draft of the movement around the warehouse throughout the night, he asked him who Strucker was. Bucky stared into the nothingness for a while.

Then he said, “The one who captured Steve right under my nose.”

“Maybe that means Steve is also in the fifth warehouse,” suggested Loki, trying to raise him up. But Bucky shook his head.

“Maybe, or maybe not. But wherever he is, I’m going to find him. And Strucker’s going to regret being born.”

There was so much loathe and darkness in his eyes, Loki almost felt sorry for Strucker.

Almost.

* * *

After their third night served to confirm the draft schedule Bucky had made, they drove back to Shelbyville. Loki wasn’t eager to leave Saga behind now that he knew where she was, and nor was Bucky to leave Steve. Though both knew that armed with only two microphones, three guns, and some knives, they wouldn’t be of much help, so they took a deep breath before getting inside the car and remained silent all the way back to Indiana. At first Bucky turned the radio on, but after a while he turned it off again.

It was Heimdall who went outside to receive them, excited to see Loki again after three days. Although Loki tried to respond to his enthusiasm properly, Heimdall knew right away something was off.

“So you found her,” he said after looking into Loki’s eyes.

“Yes,” answered Loki, lowering his gaze. “And leaving her behind because I could not guarantee her safety if I went for her right away is one of the most difficult things I have ever done.”

As Bucky walked inside carrying the sports bag to speak to Natasha, he squeezed Loki’s shoulder. Loki patted Bucky’s in return, and Heimdall watched the exchange with interest.

“Now you are friends?” he asked innocently.

“Heimdall.” Getting inside the house too, Loki sighed. “You know perfectly I am too in love, and brokenhearted, to look at anyone that way. At least now. Besides, Bucky fell for someone else a long while ago.”

“I did not mean it in that sense,” said Heimdall, shrugging. “Although it is good to hear you talk about it without getting a panic attack in the middle of the first sentence.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” Loki sighed. “If I am being honest, I doubt I will ever be over Tony. But I cannot risk Saga’s life, and our bringing Hydra down, only because someone broke my heart. To lose her would shatter it completely, and to fail would shatter many more lives.”

Proud, like a father would be, Heimdall smiled at Loki. “Since when are you so wise?”

This time it was Loki who shrugged. When he walked inside the living room it took him a while to recognise it under all the papers—they were everywhere, literally. Covering the walls, spread across the table, on the couch, on the floor. Curiously enough there was a certain order to it, when it ought to have appeared chaotic. Still, Loki felt the urge to stack them into neat piles before the sight of them drove him crazy with OCD.

“Nat,” was saying Bucky, standing in the middle of the room and looking around terrified. “What the hell has happened to my living room?”

“Nothing,” said Natasha nonchalantly, her hair pulled back into a ponytail as she studied some blueprints pinned besides the window. “We’re busy memorising all of this. Now, don’t touch anything. They’re in order, and if you ruin it, you’re dead.”

Bucky frowned, then shook his head and sighed. “Aw, Nat. Just tidy up when you’re done. Lokes, come over to my room. We have to figure things out.”

“That came out way wrong,” pointed out Natasha, raising her arm above her chest to underline a few paragraphs in the paper she was studying.

“Shut up and finish so that I can get my living room back,” Bucky snapped in response.

Once in Bucky’s room, Loki and he sat on the bed and got out the notebooks, and the drafted schedule. As Bucky flipped the pages looking for something, Loki looked around. The room was painted a light shade of grey, with only navy blue curtains and the matching sheets on Bucky’s bed to break the monotony, and there were several shelves loaded with books across the room. On one of them, though, there was a framed picture as well, which showed a younger version of Natasha, Bucky, Hawkeye, and a blond man who could only be Steve Rogers. He was handsome, and smiled at the camera like he wanted to heal the world by beaming at life.

Somehow it was similar to the picture of Tony, Saga and him at the cinema, at least in terms of sentimental value. It was the only decoration in the room, which aside from the photograph was completely impersonal. As the rest of the house was decorated soberly, but at least it was decorated, Loki wondered why, of all rooms, Bucky would leave his own this way.

“Alright,” said Bucky. “As we’ve seen today, we’ve scheduled them right. If you pay close attention, the best moment to break in is around 3:00 AM, during the first shift. Even though there’s still a good thirty-something guards, they all change positions to cover up the gone ones. So there’s a great deal of moving around, which plays in our favour. Then, the best moment to get away is 7:00 AM, when they are busy doing the second shift before whoever it is that day comes to pay a visit. The back of the warehouses is left completely unprotected.

“The problem is, it lasts for five minutes only, and right after the shift, some big fish visits. Hela, Strucker, Zola. So we’ll have to be quick as hell.”

Scratching his neck, Loki nodded. “Still, maybe we can get out later. There are less guards, no big fish visit impending, regular people are walking by.”

“No.” Bucky shook his head. “I know where you’re going, but trust me, these people don’t work that way. If they have to shoot civilians down to get us, they will, and they won’t even so much as blink while they’re at it. By doing things the way you suggest, we’d only rise the number of deaths at the hands of Hydra.”

“So we will have to act during the night.” Loki sighed. “Alright. How are we going to get out and make sure no one will be following us?”

“First let’s talk about getting in. The seventh warehouse is very close to another building, so we can try jumping from one to the other. I didn’t see anyone guarding the roof, so it should be a safe place as long as we lie down and don’t make noise. Once inside, there will be special alarm systems and devices we’ll have to take care of, and if we manage to do all of that without being caught, we’ll have to get the prisoners to stay quiet as we search for Steve and Saga. I doubt they’ll like to have someone freed in their faces without getting an opportunity to break away themselves. Envy will bring the humankind down, I swear to God.”

“Hm.” Loki pursed his lips, and stared at the schedules while he munched on it. “I would say maybe they will understand, but I dislike the idea of relying entirely on their good hearts. So I am afraid we will have to make sure they do not see us, in case Hydra wants them to describe us later, and also leave them unconscious. It is better for everyone that way. We are not betrayed, they are not interrogated for details.”

Stretching his arms above his head, Bucky clicked his tongue. “Agreed. Although I never liked having side effects, I’m afraid it isn’t optional this time. When we get to the old house, I’ll have to look for a little something we used in the old days to knock people out. So, we break in, we manage to get through security and the hypothetical rest of the prisoners. Then we wait for 7:00 AM, and a few minutes earlier, and we do something to get away. I suggest either climbing to the rooftop, then using the surrounding buildings to move our sorry asses far from that place, or using the back door. Both sound equally risky, so your choice.”

Plotting against the evil was difficult. Loki sighed and rested his forehead against the palm of his hand, looking at Bucky’s sketch. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were missing something obvious and important, and besides being a source of worry, it didn’t let him think straight. “We do rooftops,” he said in the end. “We wait on our stomachs in the roof until the big fish of the day freaks out and runs to inform the boss, and the men begin searching around, inside the warehouses or in the woods. Then, when the vigilance will be at its thinnest, we jump to the next building. There’s an emergency staircase in that one, so we use it, then we get away discreetly, one of us always watching the others’ backs. The watchmen will have eyes everywhere, so maybe we can steal a car. Dunno. In any case, we have to leave before Hydra patrols arrive at the scene.”

Loki nodded in agreement.

“So, when are we going back?”

“We’ll have to wait for Nat and Heimdall, as we’ll strike at the same time. Two days, from what Nat has said. Sorry, Lokes. Believe me, it pisses me off as much as it pisses you.”

Loki wanted to scream at Natasha until she agreed to go to Minnesota right away, but he knew it wasn’t rational, and it would endanger the mission if Nat and Heimdall weren’t ready enough. So he swallowed his screams and nodded instead.

“Two days.”

“Yeah.” Bucky grinned to him. “Then we’re bringing those fuckers down.”


	14. Tunguska Event

 “Come back alive,” said Natasha. She kicked Bucky’s foot gently, then wrapped her arms around him. With a small smile, Bucky hugged her back tight, sinking his nose in her hair.

“Promised,” he answered. “Same goes for you, Nat. I want to see your ugly faces tomorrow.”

Natasha smiled before pulling away, then hugged Loki as well. “Take care of this idiot for me, will you? Don’t let him play hero too much.”

“Aw, Nat, where’s the fun then?” complained Bucky. Still, he was looking at her affectionately. When Heimdall stepped towards him, they shook hands, exchanging a few polite threats on what might happen to the other if he didn’t bring his partner back alive. It was almost endearing, hadn’t it been for the several references to ancient methods of torture. Most were Heimdall’s doing, something that didn’t really surprise Loki.

Bucky had ensured they were all heavily equipped for the night. Apart from two guns, a taser, several knives, a hand grenade, and little discs that shone as bright as the sun when thrown to the floor, he had also gotten everyone spy clothing, including balaclavas that were less stifling than Loki had thought at first. Of course, there were tiny microphones in case one of them need to ‘Rogers’ the other. Loki wished wholeheartedly they wouldn’t have to use it.

After saying goodbye both teams were on their way. Natasha and Heimdall took the SUV she had bought after the assault in the highway. Loki and Bucky drove Bucky’s van, which was one of those hippie Volkswagen ones, the upper part being white, and the lower being light blue. The latter was covered in mandala-like black lines, some of the resulting shapes filled with bright colours.

“Whoa.” It was beautiful, and Loki couldn’t help his amazement.

“Maybe it’s not what you’d expect from a secret agent,” said Bucky, turning the key inside the lock and pulling the driver’s door open. “But I assure you it’s a great smokescreen. Together with my John Lennon-ish sunglasses, this old friend has saved my sorry ass on several occasions. And I hung a lemon-scented air freshener a while ago, so it should smell nice, too.”

“Actually, I really like it.” Cream-coloured upholstery, incredibly big space at the back. It was the kind of van that could take a man to the end of the world, and back, in one summer. “Gives off surfer vibes.”

Bucky chuckled as he started the engine. “That’s because I use it when I go surfing, too. Steve and I loved to ride the waves, so often we’d spend our weekends in Oregon or California, living the good life with our boards.” When Loki looked at him quizzically, he explained, “when we worked undercover for Hydra, we weren’t anywhere near the headquarters. We were sent to their base in Nevada, near the border with Oregon. We grew used to that life. And that’s what costed us the mission.”

“Things will be different this time,” assured him Loki, although he had absolutely no idea whether he should shut his mouth or not. “We are going to free them, Steve and Saga. And Hydra will pay for what they did to us. To everyone who has been forced under their thumb.”

As he incorporated to the highway, Bucky glanced at him sideways and grinned. “Yeah. And we’ll take you and Saga to the beach one day, so you can watch the sunrise with us. It was our favourite part of the weekend. You’ll love it.”

“But for that we have to be successful tonight.” Loki watched the black leather mittens Bucky had given him, and closed his hand in a fist. His skin looked even whiter against the fabric.

They remained silent for a long while. Then Bucky cleared his throat and said, “May I ask you something, Lokes?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Why don’t you use contractions when speaking? No offence, I’m just curious. I’d never heard anyone speak like you in my entire life.”

The question caught Loki off-guard. Not because it made him uncomfortable, nor because he didn’t know the answer, but because no one had really noticed before. And if they had, they had never pointed it out. So he scratched his neck and answered, “Because English is not my mother tongue. See, I am adopted, so before Odin and Frigga took me in when I was ten years old, I only spoke Icelandic, and a little French my grandfather taught me. When I came to the States I had to learn English, obviously, but I always felt confused when people used contractions, either spoken or written. When spoken, I would not hear whatever was being contracted more often than not, and when written, I would have trouble knowing what the contracted word was. So Frigga and Heimdall, who were the ones teaching me, decided not to contract anything. With that I finally figured how grammar worked, and I began learning much faster. Now I do understand contractions, but I am not used to introducing them in my own speech. That is why.”

“Hm.” Suddenly Bucky burst out in laughter, shaking his head. “You are an interesting person indeed, Loki Laufeyson.”

* * *

Just as they had agreed, after parking the van not very far away from the hotel and reaching the deck, Loki and Bucky climbed to the rooftop of the adjoining building to the warehouses. It was already dark, so their black garments helped them blend with the shadows, but it wasn’t late enough that the vigilance was at its peak. So they used the emergency staircase to reach the top of the building, careful, and once there they lied flat on their stomachs before crawling to the border nearest to the warehouses. Said building stood across their back part, so there were less guards. Still, there were enough that maybe one would see them if they weren’t careful enough.

Both wore the night vision contact lenses, which allowed them to check there weren’t any guards on the warehouses’ roofs. As they waited for the guards to begin the first shift in positions, which would happen at 2:15 AM, Bucky checked all his weapons and gadgets were in place, then helped Loki check his own equipment. Being far more experienced, Bucky was the one armed to his teeth—literally, since he had stuck a wire against the inner face of his lower teeth in case they were handcuffed, or locked away, the traditional way. Several guns that were each smaller and deadlier-looking than the previous dangled from his waist, in their holsters, but Loki knew there were more, together with several knives and daggers, hidden all over his body. But Bucky’s ace upon the sleeve were his wrestling skills. Loki had seen him parry with Natasha once, and it had confirmed that he did not want to anger Bucky.

Bucky flexed his fingers a few times, and his fingertips sparkled. From what he had told Loki, he could electrocute someone by touching them, although he could only do it twice. If he rationed his electric power, though, he could give several electric shocks. As this system diminished the adherence because of the fabric the gloves were made of, and Loki’s grip on guns and knife handles wasn’t firm and strong enough to risk losing adherence yet, he didn’t have the chance to go around frying his opponents manually. Though Bucky had given him a taser, which contented him enough.

As they waited for the first shift, Loki watched the men and mentally compared their positions and movements to those he had noted down. All were moving as they had expected, which he took as a good omen. Then, around 2:00 AM, one of the guards suddenly abandoned his position and disappeared behind the far end of the row of warehouses. Loki took that as a bad omen. The man returned shortly after, and Bucky whispered, “Pee break, most probably.”

Still, Loki had a bad feeling about that man.

Right at 2:15 AM, the watchmen began to switch positions. Loki and Bucky had gotten up from the rooftop, crouching near the edge of the building, a few minutes before. Bucky had silently stretched one limb at a time, and Loki had followed suit, so now they had gotten rid of most of the soreness that came with lying down on a rooftop for hours. So now they were ready to jump.

First went Loki, as the men were more distracted at the beginning, greeting one another as they walked to their new positions and even stopping to talk, than at the end, at 2:17 AM, and so the chances that they would look up at the building Bucky and Loki stood on in time to see either jump were slightly smaller. As he flew through the air, he prayed that the men wouldn’t look up while trying to remember what Bucky had taught him on landing. When he reached solid ground, he pushed himself into a roll using his left foot, arms pressed against his chest to avoid breaking a finger or spraining a wrist and chin lowered, using his shoulder to roll towards the center of the rooftop. After the momentum wore off, he uncurled and immediately lay down again, and he waited for his partner.

Then it was Bucky’s turn. He waited a few seconds, making sure that Loki had landed safely and that the watchmen weren’t suspicious, before jumping. The second he took off two decades of training took over, and he found himself lying besides Loki before he had the time to process what he was doing. Although Loki gave him a thumbs-up, he shook his head, angry at himself. True, he had made as little noise as humanly possible, but they had taught him better. Specifically, they had taught him to always focus when he landed, and avoid the auto-pilot. Which he hadn’t.

Both closed their eyes and paid attention to the sounds below them. Loki’s hearing wasn’t great, to say, but Bucky nodded after a while, meaning they hadn’t been spotted nor heard. And that was a solid good omen, Loki told himself.

“Alright,” whispered Bucky into his microphone, pressing the button. Loki heard him as if Bucky’s lips were against his ear, instead of a metre or two away. “I’ve got this.”

Blinking, as the jump had dried his eyes behind the lenses, Loki nodded and pulled away slightly. From the small backpack he carried Bucky got out a small suction pad, which he stuck to the roof. Then he got out a little metal tube, which turned out to be a laser beam. After eye-measuring Loki to calculate the minimal radius of the opening, he turned the laser on and began circling a large chunk of the roof. Despite the harmless appearance of the small laser, it cut through the thick ceiling and the sheet as if they were made of little more than clay, and when Bucky pulled the suction pad towards his chest, the chunk of roof came out neatly, without so much as a screech. Impressed, Loki stared at the laser, then at Bucky.

Bucky used a small disc to stick the piece of concrete to the rest of the roof, then fastened one of the ends of a thick rope around the handle of the suction pad. He tugged at it to make sure the combination was safe, then rubbed the sweat off his forehead before winding some rope around his hand for the descent.

“Careful,” whispered Loki as Bucky introduced both legs, then his torso, then the rest of him inside the hole he had made, clenching his teeth as he slipped down smoothly.

“Wait up,” said Bucky a few moments after. “We gotta take care of a little something.”

“What’s it?”

“Motion-activated cameras. Heck, I left the cloaking device at home. Dishonour on me. Give me a sec to work this out.”

Loki heard him take a deep breath, then another one.

“Alright,” said Bucky finally. “We’re gonna have to move fucking slowly, because I can’t think of anything better. Unless…” His voice trailed off as he cut the connection. A few minutes went by, and after what seemed to be an eternity, Bucky contacted Loki again. “Solved. Come down here.”

“How did you do it?” asked Loki, curious, as he grabbed the rope and tried not to think of the possible fall.

Bucky chuckled. “Nat.”

“So they are well?”

“At least for the moment, yeah.”

He and Bucky slowly made their way down, until their feet touched the ground. When Loki looked around he saw the inside of the warehouse had been remodeled into a small prison. They were standing in a long hallway, and around them were several small cubicles made of some dark material, distinguishable because on each door there was a very small window, and an opening for, probably, the trays of food. Somehow Hydra had managed to create a second floor inside the warehouse, accessible using discreet stairs at the end of the corridor, making the first-floor prisons 5’’ tall. Everything was the colour of a raven’s wing, a jet black that made it difficult to see even with the night vision contact lenses.

When Loki looked up, he saw a few light bulbs hung from the ceiling, without lamp shades. He saw the cameras Bucky had mentioned as well. And from the floor, the hole through which they had gotten inside was very small, and the night sky was barely visible. Suddenly he felt trapped, and the bad feeling grew worse. But he forced himself to close his eyes and count to ten, breathing every two numbers, then from ten to zero, until his heart calmed down. Things were going as expected. Bucky was with him. And even if there was an ambush, having a panic attack wouldn’t help them survive the night.

Meanwhile Bucky had gotten out a device similar to a credit card machine, only with a larger screen, and was pointing it at every door as he walked past them. He stopped upon reaching one near the end of the corridor, and Loki saw him take his hand to his ear before he heard him mutter, “Loki, she’s here.”

Before he could even process what Bucky had just said, Loki was already running down the hallway towards Bucky, his footsteps quiet as he did so thanks to the special combat boots he was wearing. Although he knew he should be more careful, it was impossible not to run, not to feel the aire was a little cleaner now, not to smile as he thought of hugging Saga again. Of being family again.

Bucky held up his hand as he inspected the electronic lock. After a few seconds he shrugged, and pressed his hand to it. There was a bright spark and a loud buzz before the door opened with a beeping sound. Bucky pushed it so that it opened completely, and stepped aside to let Loki in.

Saga was lying against the opposite wall, curled up as she slept. She was even thinner now, her skinny figure revealing the outline of her bones everywhere Loki looked. Skin-and-bone face, skeletal arms, knees thicker than the thighs above. Where there once was an untameable mane of silver hair, there was now thin air, for they had cropped her hair very short, right below her sharp chin. As he approached her carefully, Loki could make out the blurry shapes of several bruises all over her skin. One of them, on her cheek. Although his blood boiled at the sight of this, claiming revenge, he forced himself to stay focused on not scaring her. After all Saga had always been a skittish girl, and after being kidnapped and abused, Loki expected her to be much more jumpy and wary of people.

Once he was close enough, he crouched besides her. “Saga?” he whispered in the quietest of voices. She woke immediately, and scrambled backwards as she shook her head, shaking like a leaf. Although she didn’t make a noise, her frightened eyes were screaming at Loki.

“I not do bad,” she said in a very bad English, her voice shaking almost as much as her. “I do not bad please no hurt.”

“Saga, it is me,” Loki said in Icelandic. “Loki.”

For a while Saga stood perfectly still against the corner of the small cell. Loki realised that, even though he could see her thanks to his night vision contact lenses, she couldn’t see a thing in the dark. She was relying on hearing entirely. And, since she knew perfectly that some of the things she heard couldn’t be trusted, it wasn’t far-fetched to think that she was trying to guess whether his voice was one of those or, on the contrary, could be listened to.

Then she said, “Pabbi Loki?”

And she sounded so hopeful yet so fragile that Loki couldn’t stop himself. He gently reached for her, caressing her arms as he took her in his arms.”Yeah, Saga,” he answered. “Pabbi Loki. I came to rescue you. Remember what I told you when you had nightmares, at Vernda Börnin, and could not sleep?”

“Ég mun vernda þig, svo ekki vera hræddur. Engin skað mun koma til þín,” she whispered. I will protect you, so do not fear. No harm will come to you. “Pabbi, pabbi, pabbi.”

She curled up again, against his chest, shifting until her head was resting right above Loki’s heart and she could hear it pound. Loki wrapped his arms around her scrawny body, and let out a shaky sigh. Because she was here, in his arms, after a month and a half, and no one would ever take her away again. Right then he recognised his feelings as a burst of fatherly love, no matter how young he was or how he had met Saga only a few months ago. Because he would sing her to sleep every night, and hold her hand as she fought the Them with his help, and hug her when she needed to cry, and laugh with her when she was happy. Because if he had to fight all of Hydra with his bare hands to get her to safety, he would. With a smile on his lips.

“Did they hurt you?”

“Yes, pabbi.” She trembled in his arms. Then she shook her head. “But I are brave. I not cry and they angry because I not cry for they. And they lot angry but I not cry.”

Tears rolling down his cheeks, Loki brought her even closer, kissing the top of her head. “Yeah, Saga. You are brave. You are the bravest girl I ever met, and I am proud of you, and I love you more than anything in this world. _Hjartað mitt_.”

“Pabbi, I not a heart.”

“You are my heart,” he assured her. “And I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. They will not hurt you again, because I will not let them.”

He could feel Saga’s smile against his chest, and everything seemed to fall into place. Then he remembered about Bucky, and pressed the button of his microphone.

“Bucky?” he said. “Are you there?”

“Second floor,” answered Bucky. “Fuck, Lokes, I’m nearly done with the doors and he’s nowhere to be seen. Fuck fuck fuck.”

“Wait,” said Loki. “I will go up and we can scan the last ones together.”

“Hurry,” pleaded Bucky.

As he rose, Saga in his arms, she craned her neck to rub her nose against Loki’s. Welcoming the warmth that spread through him at the contact, Loki explained, “A friend helped me find you, and now we are going to meet him. You cannot see, but I can, so do not be afraid. We will not trip.”

“But the men,” Saga said fearfully.

“There are no men but for us,” Loki reassured her, massaging her back. “And he is a good man, my friend, you will see. When this is over, he will take us to see the sunrise in the beach. Would you like that?”

Saga shook her head and pressed her forehead against Loki’s shoulder. “But the men,” she repeated. So Loki sighed, kissed the top of her head again, and got out of the cell, extra careful as he climbed the stairs so that he wouldn’t fall. When he reached the second floor, Bucky was sitting on the floor at the end of the opposite row of doors. As the ground here was shaped like a ‘U’, Loki had to cross the warehouse and turn left before walking up to Bucky. The latter’s head was between his knees, and when he heard Loki’s footsteps, he didn’t move. He didn’t speak, either. He just clenched fistfuls of hair, and his shoulders sunk even further. If devastation were a man, Loki thought, right now it would be Bucky.

“Hey,” he whispered. “I am here.”

“Loki,” Bucky groaned. “What if he isn’t here? What if he did die? I thought I would’ve known if Steve was gone, but now I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

“We do not know yet for certain.” Crouching slightly, which was difficult while bearing a little girl in his arms, Loki reached for Bucky’s hand, and gently pulled it down. “Let us try our luck.”

Bucky sniffed, and nodded. Then he smiled weakly at Saga.

“Hey, little girl. You are as beautiful as Loki said,” he muttered, grinning weakly.

As Saga wasn’t anywhere near fluent in English, and Bucky’s accent was very different from Tony’s, which was the only one Saga had heard before, Loki translated for her. Then she whispered something in her ear, and Loki couldn’t help but smile.

“She asks whether you are family,” he explained to Bucky before switching to Icelandic. “Já, hjartað mitt. Uncle Bucky. He is not family by blood, but by choice.” Then he switched back to English and said, “Come on, Bucky. Stay strong. We are here, with you.”

Slowly, Bucky got up, then turned on his scanner again before walking towards the end of the corridor. He stopped before the third door, and shook his head. Then he moved on to the second, and shook his head again. His hands were trembling so badly, the device nearly fell to the floor.

“I can’t do this, Loki,” he said, his voice thin.

“Oh, Bucky, of course you can.” Loki reached out and squeezed Bucky’s hand. “I know you can. Besides, you have come so far without giving up, and you are not going to start doing so now. Even if you cannot see it now, you are strong. Really strong. So you can do this and much more. If Rogers is here, you can take it. If he is not, you can have Nat find out where he is. And we will stand by you all along.”

He had more words for Bucky, but besides the obvious fact that speaking much was dangerous, and he had talked for quite a long time with Saga already, he felt like it would be like pouring too much maple syrup on a pancake. It would ruin the dish, it would ruin the whole point of the speech.

First door. Bucky scanned it. Then he closed his eyes, and sighed before planting his fingers on the electronic lock. There was a flash of light in the dark, a spark. Then there was the light in Bucky’s eyes as he walked inside the cell.

Inside was the unconscious body of a tall, broad man, dirty and bruised all over, much more than Saga. Despite his homeless looks, so different from those he had offered in the picture Bucky kept in his room, Bucky slowly cupped his face and held him as if he were the most precious thing in the world. In fact, because it was the most precious thing in his world.

“Steve,” whispered Bucky. “Steve, it’s Bucky. Wake up, moron, I’m here.”

At first Steve Rogers didn’t move, and Loki could hear Bucky’s low hiss as he searched for Steve’s pulse, touching the side of the latter’s neck. But then he coughed and mumbled a few words that made no sense, which brought Bucky to the verge of tears.

“Bucky?” asked Steve groggily a few minutes after.  
“Fuck yeah,” answered Bucky, chewing on his lip as his lips curved into an enormous grin. When the tears started to fall, he didn’t bother wiping them away. “I knew you weren’t dead, Steve, I just knew. And Nat said that was impossible, but I knew.”

“Bucky,” said Steve again, a certain urgence in his voice this time.

“Shut up and save your energy. We’re gonna get away from this godforsaken place, and you’re gonna get well. We’re gonna get you well, Steve. And no one will ever do something like this to you again, you heard me? I will break every single bone in their bodies if they ever try to. Every single fucking bone.”

“Bucky!” exclaimed Steve, and Bucky startled. “Bucky, you have to go. Now.”

“Of course, but you’re coming with us. Just wait, they’re doing the third shift soon. Try to gather your strength, because you’ll have to climb up a rope.”

“No, Bucky, no. Take the child and go,” he pleaded, trying to get on his feet. He fell against the wall with a loud thump, and Bucky hurried to his side. Steve planted his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, and shook him. “Go, Bucky! They knew you’d be here tonight, and right now they’re coming for you! The child and I were the bait. You have to go before…”

There was a clicking sound behind the four of them, then several more. Loki’s blood froze in his veins as he realised that they had fallen straight in the trap. He remembered the man on pee break, and knew straight away what had been troubling him. The certainty that the man hadn’t been gone to pee. He had been gone to notify his superiors.

When he turned around, a hand on Saga’s head as he pressed her against him, he met half a dozen barrels pointing at them. Then the formation broke, and a tall, skinny woman walked inside the cell.

Jet black hair.

Cruel red smile.

Emerald eyes.

“Hello, little brother,” said Hela.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, anyone following Voltron?, bc I need someone to share the outrage with. If you don't follow the show, you just need to know that we got baited, and had to watched the only 'canon' LGTB couple be torn apart when one of them died.
> 
> LGTB children deserve to see that being part of the LGTB community isn't bad, that LGTB couples get happy endings just like straight couples do, and that LGTB people are much more than their sexuality, sex, or gender, thus being able to be main characters as deep and real as the cishet ones. Obviously this isn't my only complaint about s7, but the rest are huge spoilers. This one kind of is, too, but I wanted to make it clear that no, the LGTB community is NOT happy, that we are OUTRAGED and HURT, and that it's absolutely LEGIT for US to feel this way. 
> 
> I am a bisexual female. If I had had LGTB characters in the books/comics/films/shows I read or watched while growing up, I would have struggled a lot less to accept myself. I wouldn't feel as guilty and terrified for having fallen for one of my girl best friends---which is how I feel almost every day despite knowing rationally that it isn't a bad or sinful feeling, nor something I chose and thus can ever be seen as my fault. I wouldn't think of myself as disturbed, sick, unlovable, and disgusting for being attracted to both males and females. I wouldn't be frightened to even imagine my family finding out. I would be able to confess to my same-sex crushes the way my straight friends confess to their opposite-sex ones, instead of fearing they will reject me and never speak to me again. My life, and my self-esteem, would be very different.
> 
> Major F to you, Voltron executive team, because you could have helped LGTB children through this type of struggles. You could have shown them that they matter, that they are not wrong-wired, and that they can get normalcy and happy endings too. Instead you chose to play with your audience promising all of the above, gave them hope KNOWING you would crush it, and played with their feelings. Forced heteronormativity, hardcore queerbaiting, one of the only two supposedly (because you couldn't even make it clear they were a couple, they are just friends onscreen) LGTB people getting killed while all the straight guys are safe. Many people who followed the show belonged to the LGTB community, and had put a lot of trust in you when you announced that there would be a canon LGTB couple. People who desperately need some rep onscreen, or who want to see it for the sake of diversity. Major. F. You.
> 
> Some think we are angry only because Klance isn't endgame. If you think that's what happens, then you haven't understood a thing. When the fans asked whether there would be proper LGTB rep, the executive team said "just wait and you'll see!". With Shiro and Adam, who were confirmed as a canon couple during an oficial event, they promised us a good representation. Two males getting married and being complete, deep characters instead of being their sexuality and nothing else. No cliché gay drama-queen sidekicks. Good, lovable, relatable characters. Then Voltron never even hinted at them being together, and killed one of them. We are angry because of what this means, because of the message it sends. If you don't want to have LGTB rep, don't say you will do it. Don't invisibilize them. Don't kill them.
> 
> I never thought I would say this, but Harry Potter did better. No homo, J.K.? Alright, then no constant baiting with Wolfstar, Deamus, Scorbus, and Drarry--which is what she did. No J.K. saying "yeah, just wait, there will be rep!". She did say afterwards that Dumbledore was gay. And indeed, we all know at least Wolfstar, Deamus, and Scorbus are a thing. But she didn't bait us with it. Voltron did, and with it disrespected both their audience and their characters. So yeah. Major. F. You. Voltron.


	15. Chandrasekhar Limit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Graphic depiction of violence. Chapters 15 and 16 get really bloody (specially chapter 16), so please please please keep it in mind in case violence and threatening disturb you, or if you fear it might be a trigger. Stay safe, y'all, your well-being is much more important than any fanfiction! :)

Frozen in horror, Loki watched as Hela walked inside the cell. Her eyes were fixed on him, and although her mouth was smiling, her eyes weren’t. Instead they watched him cautiously, like she was measuring him and trying to figure out what his next move might be. Between Loki’s arms, Saga tossed and moaned, and he helped her to the floor. Although the last thing he wanted to do was letting go of the little girl again, he knew holding her against her will might trigger the auditory hallucinations. Though he held her hand and pulled her behind him, ready to protect her at all costs.

Behind them, Bucky had jumped to Loki’s side and held up a knife, ireful.

“Lights on, please,” said Hela to one of the men pointing at them with rifles. “We meet finally, little brother. I wanted to have a little chat when we came across you in Greensburg, but unfortunately miss Romanoff didn’t let us have family time.”

Loki didn’t answer. Instead he reached for one of the guns he carried, but as soon as his fingertips brushed the holster, there was a shooting sound. Something flew past his right ear and drove into the wall. A second after, something hot and sticky trickled down his neck.

“Sorry, brother, but I’d rather you didn’t try to kill me. We’d be getting off on the wrong foot, and we don’t want that, do we?”

Besides Loki, Bucky tensed even further. Steve was still leaning against the wall, and Loki guessed they had drugged him somehow. A man that had received the same training as Bucky couldn’t have been so slow clearing his head.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” Hela stepped closer to him, and extended her arm to touch the wound in Loki’s ear. Her long nail, painted in black, scratched his skin all the way down to his clavicle, where she rested her hand for a second before digging all five nails into his smooth skin. “Your child wasn’t, either. At first,” she hissed, smiling ever so slightly as she looked into his eyes. “But after a while she warmed up to her aunt. Didn’t you, sweetheart?”

Saga let out a frightened cry. “She lot angry she hurt!” she said in Icelandic. Apparently Hela wasn’t fluent in that language, and apparently it annoyed her greatly, because she narrowed her eyes, smile gone.

“I thought I had taught you it’s rude to speak in a language others do not know,” she breathed, leaning forwards to reach for Saga. But Loki stepped to his left to shield Saga with his body before Hela could get her, and her hand froze in the air. She looked up at Loki, and her smile returned. After a second, she pulled back. “But for once you’ve proven yourself useful, little girl. Soft spot for a misfit child, Loki? Like father, like son, I guess.”

Despite the obvious mockery at Loki’s origins, and the blatant insult towards Saga, Loki forced himself to remain still. “You will not touch her again,” he said simply.

Hela shook her head, amused. “Won’t I? And what—” she rose her hand and sunk her nails into Loki’s cheek, “—will you, exactly—” she slowly pulled her hand down, and the blood started to fall, “—do to prevent it?” When she reached his chin she lowered her hand, and watched, satisfied, as Loki bled profusely. Bucky let out a guttural sound, but he knew better than launching himself towards Hela to tear her throat apart when there were six armed men watching.

Despite the plain blurring the edges of his vision, trying to ignore the blazing heat in his cheek, Loki steeled himself and said, “You wanted me. She has nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, little brother, but of course she does!” Hela smiled wickedly. “She’s important for you, and if she suffers, you suffer.” She reached for Saga again, faster this time, and even though Loki tried to stand in her way, all the men aimed their fireguns at either Saga’s or his head. “Come with your aunt, sweetheart.”

Saga cried the second Hela touched her, and began kicking and tossing to avoid being taken from Loki’s side. One her kicks landed on Hela’s right breast, and as the woman stumbled backwards, gasping for dear air, she narrowed her eyes and looked at Saga with hatred.

“Little bitch,” she spat, and waved her hand. Two of the men got inside the room and grabbed Saga by her arms, pulling her away from Loki and Hela. Saga couldn’t stop crying, but when one of the men slapped her with such strength that her head was turned around by the blow alone, she quietened immediately.

This enraged Loki more than anything. Because if Saga had learned to shut up the second someone hit her, it was because they had hit her before until she stopped crying.

“As for you,” said Hela, returning her attention to Loki, “we have to do some talking. This place is depressing as hell, so we won’t be doing it here, but when we do sit down and I hand you a pen and a contract…” She smiled with self-importance “You will sign it, renouncing to your inheritance from Odin, and passing on your shares and accounts from the enterprise to me, your older sister Hela Allföðr. Including the ownership of the Valhalla foundation and that filthy orphanage of yours, Vernda Börnin. I want it all, little brother. And you will give it to me one way or another.”

She turned on her heels and exited the cell, while three more men got inside the small space and handcuffed Loki, Bucky, and Steve. Bucky was knocked unconscious soon, after he tried to fight them back, and Steve let out a raucous growl.

“What do we do with the other two, Miss?” asked one of the soldiers.

Hela didn’t even turn around to look at Bucky and Steve. She shrugged and said, “They’re trash. Do whatever you want.”

* * *

 The Hydra headquarters didn’t look menacing, which was partly the reason why Loki felt twice as endangered. The buildings could have been a hospital, or a small university. Instead they were the core of the American organised crime of the last decade. As Hela’s elegant car and the big black van in which Loki and Saga had been transported drove inside the underground parking, they left behind various flower beds of many different colours, and a Zen garden. Several cars, and even a few motorcycles, were parked around, despite it being late in the night. Even the ‘EMERGENCY EXIT’ lights were average.

It reminded Loki of a philosopher he had read about a while ago for his Philosophy course, and really enjoyed, called Hannah Arendt. She spoke about the banality of evil in _Eichmann in Jerusalem_. Now Loki was seeing what she meant in its full glory—people who most probably didn’t think of themselves as criminals, who hadn’t really made up their minds to be bad, working together to sustain one of the most dangerous and wicked organisations in the world. Many were parents, probably, and when they got back to their homes, they played with their children, watched the news, and kissed their spouses. Active involvement wasn’t necessary in the business of evil, said Loki to himself. Only the unwillingness to change things.

When the van’s engine was turned off, two of the soldiers handcuffed and blindfolded Saga and Loki. Although Loki pleaded them not to cover her eyes, for she was extremely afraid of the dark where she could not see the Them until it was too late, the one handling him only kicked him hard enough in the stomach to get him to shut up.

Then someone pushed him forwards, and he walked and walked and walked, following the instructions they barked at him. Somewhere ahead of him, Saga began whining quietly.

“ _Hjartað mitt_ , it will be alright.”

“No talkin’!” screamed the soldier who was in charge of him. He pointed at Loki with his gun. “No talkin’!” he repeated.

As they turned around a corner, Saga was taken away by two of the men. Soon her screams filled the air, cutting through Loki’s heart like daggers. But then she shut up suddenly, which broke his heart even more. If they had hit her, if they had dared hit her again…

“Here,” said Hela abruptly, opening a door. The soldiers pushed Loki inside, then entered the room themselves and stood in one of the corners each. It was a small meeting room, with a long table that reminded Loki of the one in the dining room at Vernda Börnin. Everything was black but for the padding of the chairs, which was red. Hela sat on the opposite end of the table, wearing her sly smile again. “Time to sign our little contract, little brother.”

“You will never put your hands on Odin’s legacy,” said Loki fiercely, the rage from having heard Saga suffer fueling him. “Bastard child.”

Hela breathed in sharply, and all the soldiers pointed at him with their guns again. But in the end the woman smiled tensely. “Funny to hear you say so,” she commented nonchalantly, “because I’m more of an Allföðr than you’ll ever be. But I didn’t really ask for your opinion, so save it for yourself. Sign the documents, and then we’ll see whether you were right or not.”

Feeling a hatred so intense it took him aback a little, as he had never felt so strong about a stranger, Loki took the pen she was offering him. He signed each paper deliberately slowly, and stared at her defiantly when he was done. Hela sighed and got up to get them.

“Thank you, little brother,” she said. “I knew that, deep inside, you were a reasonable person. More than Thor, anyways. He wouldn’t stop causing trouble until miss Jane Foster paid him a visit.”

“Jane?” asked Loki, confused. Then Hela ducked her head, grinning, and he felt something frozen in the pitch of his stomach. Because if even Jane was involved, how long had Hela been plotting against them, and waiting for a chance? How long had they been watched without even knowing about Hela? How long had they been in danger? “She would…”

“Never deceive Thor?” She laughed like she had just heard the best joke ever. “Men. You tnk everything ceases to exist for a girl when she falls for you. No, Loki, she did deceive Thor. Since they first bumped into each other. Do you seriously think there are girls willing to be picked up in the middle of nowhere, at night, alone, by a boy like Thor? Do you really think she would have gotten inside the car if she didn’t know exactly who he was, and that he wouldn’t try to hurt or rape her? Then you’re more foolish than I thought. Maybe Thor didn’t know Jane, but Jane knew him better than you do.”

“Lies. Jane loves Thor,” Loki said, although he wasn’t certain anymore. Because if she had been working for Hela and Hydra all along, if she had been lying to them since the very beginning, why believe she had been true about her feelings?

Again, Hela let out a loud laugh. “Yes, indeed. But when she realised she did, it was too late. We were inside your home. We knew everything about you. We had hacked everything worth hacking. She couldn’t turn back time and undo the damage. Love loses this time, Loki. Sorry.”

Then she stood, grabbing the stack of documents Loki had signed carefully so as not to rumple a single one. Behind Loki, two of the guards stepped forwards to grab him by his forearms, and forced him to his feet. Knowing that trying to break away would only make things worse, Loki didn’t resist.

“Take him with the rest,” said Hela. “But don’t get rid of them just yet. I’m taking this to court tomorrow, and if Odin doesn’t collaborate, we’ll need them.”

“Not even some innocent fun?” asked one of the guards.

She weighed his words for a few seconds.

“As long as they are alive and able to speak,” she said finally. “Whatever you like.”

The guard that had spoken squeezed Loki’s forearm at this, until Loki winced. Then he began dragging him towards the door with the help of his partner, making sure to drive Loki’s side against the doorframe as they exited the meeting room. Outside there were two more men guarding the room, rifles in hand, and they were the ones to blindfold Loki before he was dragged along again. Although he was screaming and crying inside, Loki took a deep breath, and closed his eyes to better focus on the itinerary they were following. It helped him concentrate on his other senses, even if the blindfold wouldn’t allow him to see anyways.

They walked down a long, long corridor, then turned left and waited. Doors opened before them, judging by the quiet rumble, and when they walked through them, they stopped again, and remained still for some time—a lift. After the doors opened again, they got moving again, and turned a few times before stopping again. Keys rattled, then one of the men let go of Loki and stepped forward to, presumably, unlock a door.

When they pushed him to the floor, despite having rationally known this might happen, it took him by surprise. He hit the floor and it was cold and hard, and although he was no expert in injures, he could tell immediately that two fingers in his right hand were broken from the overwhelming pain. Bucky had told him that the fall was important. It obviously was.

“Take the blindfold off?” suggested one of the guards. Hearing his voice above of him startled Loki, and suddenly he feared the men might kick him on step on him.

“Yeah. With it on he won’t be as fun to beat as without.”

Someone tugged at the cloth, making Loki grit his teeth, until it came off, and said, “Look at ‘im sucker.”

The room was undeniably a cell, despite it being slightly less austere than the ones Saga and Steve had been locked in. Panelled ceiling, concrete walls and floor, the only furniture was a chair, on which they forced Loki to sit. As soon as he did, one of them tied his arms behind the chair’s back while the other smiled cruelly.

“Well, well, well. Rich guys look worse than people assume, don’t you think, Mark?”

“Yeah.” Mark ran a hand through Loki’s hair as he walked past him to stand besides his partner. “But I thought his brother was the blond one.”

“Idiot. Mister Laufeyson dyed his hair, obviously. Wrong colour choice, by the way.” Suddenly his hand darted forwards, and he grabbed a handful of Loki’s hair. Loki could feel his scalp pulsing as the man pulled. “Trying to go for a Thor-ish look?”

Not wanting to give them the satisfaction to see him in pain, Loki only grunted. It was a low, raucous sound, that surged from the depths of his throat. It made him feel feral.

“Look, Mark, the kitten is angry. Maybe we should teach him manners.” As Mark nodded enthusiastically, the other mar unsheathed the knife he carried in his belt. “We have claws too, mister Laufeyson. Although Hela did a great job, maybe we can… Add to it?”

When he pressed the tip of the knife against the patch of skin above Loki’s eyebrow, almost with tender, he ducked his head and showed a small, sweet smile. Then he stretched and flexed his fingers around the handle of the weapon, adjusting his grip, before bringing it down, slowly dragging the sharp blade along. Cold and unforgiving, the knife left behind a trail of blood and open flesh, every inch almost too painful to take. When it reached his eyelid, Loki couldn’t hold back anymore, and he began to shriek, and he thought, _Please please please do not let him reach the eye please do not let him do not_. The man, though, stopped before the tip of the knife began cutting through the eyelid. He stepped back to admire his work.

“Better now,” he declared. The cut was bleeding profusely, and soon Loki had to close his eye so that he wouldn’t get blood in it. As he tried to breathe evenly, remembering that Bucky had warned him the faster he breathed, the more uneven his heartbeat and the greater the bloodloss, he felt his body go cold, from his fingertips to his chest.

Lessons on wounds and how to lessen their short-term consequences were useful, but it would have been more useful to have lessons on how to break free from tied hands, leave two men unconscious, and escape a building without getting caught to seek help. Unfortunately, Bucky hadn’t given him any of the latter.

“I wanna try, Olsen” exclaimed Mark, reaching out for the knife. But Olsen shook his head and moved the knife away from Mark, and clicked his tongue.

“No, Mark. We’re only starting to know our friend—and we don’t want to break him too soon, now, do we?”

Upon hearing Olsen’s words, Mark lowered his hands and pouted. “Awright, Olsen. If you say so. But the next time I want to do the knife.”

“The next time,” Olsen promised him.

Loki’s head was spinning around, and soon it dropped, chin against his collar bone. He panted as he tried to focus on anything but the pain, but the latter was too intense to be ignored, wave after wave of it hitting him like gusts of wind in a storm.

“See?” Frowning, Olsen grabbed Loki by the hair again and forced him to raise his head. “He’s weak. We’d better be careful with this one if we want him to last. Luck for you, mister Laufeyson. Although…” He cupped Loki’s face, examining his features. “Maybe if I’m careful myself…”

Suddenly he froze in place, then reached up for his ear. After a few seconds, he frowned.

“Well,” he said, clearly disappointed. Mark looked at him, confused, as he let go of Loki and moved away from him. “After all there’s luck for you, mister Laufeyson—miss Hela wants you again. Pity. We were going to have so much fun together. Maybe later.”

Finding it hard to breathe, Loki managed to give him a death glare. As Mark untied his hands, he roared and aimed a punch at Olsen, but Olsen simply stepped aside and watched as Loki fell to the floor. When he hit the concrete he stayed there, shaking, unable to think of anything but _please make this stop_ and _in the end I could not save anyone_ and _please please please make it stop it hurts, it hurts so much everywhere and I cannot deal with this anymore._

But Olsen and Mark made him stand again, then pushed him towards the exit.

“Blindfold?” asked Mark. Olsen shrugged.

“If you want. But he’s too gone already to pay attention to the route.”

Apparently that was enough of a blindfold for Mark, because they didn’t cover his eyes again. They were right, and Loki could barely register his surroundings as he stumbled forwards. He struggled to stay conscious.

By the time Mark and Olsen walked into a room, Loki was on the verge of passing out. Upon seeing his miserable state, Hela frowned at the two men, crossing her legs at knee height without standing up from the chair she sat on, in front of a large wooden bureau.

“I thought I told you I wanted him alive and able to speak.”

“He can still speak,” Olsen assured her.

“You’d better pray he can. If I have to wait a single second because you assholes weren’t able to control yourselves, you’ll regret it. Loki?”

A part of him wanted to remain silent, so that she would make them regret it. Loki didn’t recognise himself when he realised. Bloodthirsty, wild, enraged—it wasn’t Loki Laufeyson who wanted to hurt them. It was the beast they had unleashed.

“Yes,” he gasped.

By either sides of him, Mark and Olsen let out identical sighs of relief.

Hela stood up and leaned forwards, both hands on the bureau. “Apparently,” she began, “we have a mole. See, I come from having a little chat with your thick-haired friend, and he made a terrible mistake—he said soon all of Hydra’s nasty secrets would leak out, for everyone to see. Since none of you are in a position to do so right now, I’m assuming there is a mole. And you know who it is, don’t you?” she purred softly.

When he heard this, Loki tensed his jaw, his mind working at full speed. Because if Hela was talking about moles, she suspected it was someone from Hydra who would be giving them away. And this meant they hadn’t caught Natasha and Heimdall yet. There was still a little ray of hope.

“I… do not know what you are talking about,” he hissed. But Hela simply smiled.

“Of course you do, little brother. And, what’s more, you will tell me right away.”

“I mean it.” Loki had to stop to breathe in. He swallowed and said, “I do not know anyone who works for you.”

“Hm.” Hela pursed her lips and nodded. “Maybe I can refresh your mind a little bit. See, your friend James Barnes used to be a Hydra agent, and your other friend Natasha Romanoff too. They pretended to work for us for six years, during which they hurt, stole, and killed, under Hydra’s orders. Oh,” she exclaimed, smiling, “James didn’t tell you?”

“He is not a criminal.” When Loki coughed, his whole face contorted, and Olsen’s cut began to bleed again.

“Whatever you want, little brother. But your lover did go against the law for us, and so did his friends. Natasha Romanoff has more blood in her hands than I do, Loki, that I can assure you. Did you know she was trained by the Russians? When she was transferred to Hydra, her references from the KGB were impressive. Spy, sniper, femme fatale. Of course, we were very happy to have her within us. Your James, he wasn’t as remarkable, but he excelled at the physical and strategy tests. And then there was Steve Rogers, of course. Golden boy.

“Steve had been trained in the U.S. Army as a part of a secret project. Exciting, right? A soldier turning against his own country. The three of them were the greatest agents Hydra has ever had. Good times.” She smiled. “But then your James friend fucked up. During a day off he asked Steve whether he had received any answer from S.H.I.E.L.D. Poor man didn’t know we were watching him since he failed at killing the Senator who tried to take the lid off our activities.”

Loki didn’t say anything, but rather stared at Hela. She seemed to be lost in her memories, mesmerised as she visited the past.

“Imagine our sorrow when we discovered our best agents worked for the men who wanted to end us for good.” Hela shrugged. “So we waited until the three of them let their guards down. It didn’t take long—they had gone out for dinner, on Steve’s birthday. Soppy idiots. Natasha went outside to make a call, and that’s why she managed to escape. As for Bucky, he and Steve were together one second, and the next he simply wasn’t there. We never knew what had happened to him, because not even the cameras had registered whatever he did to vanish in thin air. But now we’ve found him.”

Again, Loki didn’t answer. Hela wrinkled her nose at his inactivity. Olsen yawned. Mark scratched his face, then his butt.

“I do not know any mole,” said Loki finally.

Hela frowned, annoyed by his denial.  
“Lies, little brother. But I’m not worried that you don’t want to tell me. Maybe you’ll want to tell him.” She sat down again, and picked up a white phone. “N-115, N-116. Bring him here.” Then she hung up, and waited. She looked at Loki like a spider looking at a fly trapped in its web. For a while they remained silent.

Then someone knocked on the door, and waited for Hela to say, ‘Come in’ before entering the room.

First came Freya, dressed in a Hydra soldier uniform, her golden hair tied up in a ponytail. Her ice blue eyes glanced at Loki, who was staring at her in mute horror, but she clenched her jaw and looked away almost immediately, like seeing him hurt her physically. All the while, Loki looked at her and saw all the good moments, the phone calls and the reassurance when things had begun to go from bad to worse. The feeling of betrayal hit him like a bullet train. She saluted Hela, and Hela nodded, acknowledging her.

Then came Frey, dressed in a matching uniform, and he didn’t even try to look at Loki. Instead he looked at the man he dragged inside the room, pointing at him with his gun as he pulled his arm so that he would walk forwards.

Loki’s heart collapsed then, going supernova. It burst and its pieces flew in all directions, leaving only darkness and helplessness behind. Mark and Olsen did little to help him when he dropped to his knees, still staring at the man, although Mark did shift uncomfortably when Olsen’s cut began to bleed again.

He had wanted to punch the smile away from Hela’s face before. Now he suddenly felt exhausted, cold and lifeless, and all he wanted to do was lie down on the floor and never get up again. Because, although he had kept on tripping and falling and getting back on his feet all his life, there was no reason to do so again anymore.

“Even if you don’t want to tell me, little brother,” said Hela, her voice pure velvet as she walked towards the two men who had just entered the room and took the hostage’s chin between her index and her thumb, “I’m certain you will tell Tony Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next comes my favourite chapter so far weeee :D Look out for this Friday's update :D
> 
> Also, sorry for venting out my anger and personal problems at you guys last chapter. Voltron outraged me to such an extent, and I've been hurting so much these days :'( But today my mother gave me a homemade Camp Half-Blood candle that smells like marshmallow toasting in the campfire, which she found at the local bookstore which is kind of Heaven in Earth, and also I started TJ Klune's Ravensong (I seriously recommend his Green Creek series sO MUCH), so happiness again c: Kudos to y'all for putting up with me and TPOF(IL)!


	16. Loop Quantum Gravity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Graphic depiction of violence ahead, guys!

All Loki had tried to do, since the night he heard about Hela and the danger she posed not only to him, but also to his beloved ones, had been keeping Tony safe. Away from the mess, even if it meant keeping him away from Loki himself. Since he came to the States, Loki had managed to fit in like a piece from a different puzzle—it was never a perfect or complete fit. He never felt fully accepted and taken into account, until he met Tony. Tony, who would see right through him. Tony, who would kiss his tears away patiently. Tony, who would help him heal from the kind of wounds that are not worn on the skin. Tony, who took Loki’s universe and gave it purpose with a grin.

Loki had failed.

Hela watched them, amused, as they looked at each other in horror. Tony’s face was bruised, his right eye so swollen he could barely open it, his lips and chin covered in blood clots. When he had walked in, he had limped all along. Loki noticed he avoided putting his weight on his left leg. And although Tony wore a long-sleeved T-shirt and his loose jeans, Loki knew there were more injuries all over his body, and also a lot of damage that could not be seen.

“Tony,” he breathed.

“Loki,” mumbled Tony in response, and hearing him made everything worse, because it meant he wasn’t a hallucination—he was real, and he was suffering, and it was all Loki’s fault. Tony didn’t move his mouth much as he spoke, which made his words clumsy and difficult to understand. “Loki, stay strong. Don’t tell them anything.”

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion,” said Hela coldly.

She snapped her fingers, and immediately Olsen stepped towards Tony, smiling. Instead of beating him, like Loki feared he would, he took a packet and a lighter out of his pocket, and lit himself a cigarette. He gave it a few puffs, then smiled as he held it between his thumb and his index and drove it against Tony’s collar bone. Immediately Tony began screaming and writhing in pain, trying to get away from Olsen, but Olsen grabbed his shoulder and forced him to stay in place as he pressed the cigarette against his skin. When he moved the cigarette away, he left a charred-edged burn.

At the sight of Tony’s scorched flesh, Loki roared and launched himself towards Hela. Before he could get close enough to hit her, Mark kicked the back of his knees, and Loki collapsed to the floor again, this time on his back. He whined when his head hit the ground, and as everything began to spin around him, he worried that he might have a concussion. Black began clawing at the edges of his vision, but he fought to stay conscious.

Being an idiot, but a sadistic one, Mark stepped on Loki’s right hand and crushed his fingers under the rubber sole of his black boots. Sharp pain shot through Loki’s body, crawling from his broken fingers to his palm then up his arm, until everything he could hear and see and think about and feel was pain, pain, pain, pain everywhere and bursting and hurting.

“How romantic of you. But it’d be faster if you simply told me what I want to know.” Flashing Loki a poisonous smile, Hela tapped her fingers on the table. “The mole’s name, brother. Just one name, and he won’t be touched again. You have my word.”

“Your word is worth little,” spat Tony, tears running down his cheeks. Frey forced him to his knees and looked at Hela, waiting for an order. Hela chose to ignore him.

“Your choice. Collaborate and put him out of his misery, or protect those who have lied to you all along and watch him suffer until he can’t stand on his feet.”

Still on the floor, unable to stand up again, Loki couldn’t breathe. The throbbing ache in the back of his head was growing stronger, beating to the rhythm of Loki’s heart. As he tried to draw in some air, head bobbing, his eyes closed, and it was hard to open them. After they shut for the fourth time, they refused to open.

As Loki drifted into the dark, he distantly heard Hela say, as if she were speaking to him underwater, “Get him to a cell. We’ll try again later, when he wakes.”

* * *

 

Loki woke to the smallness of the promised cell, which smelled of humidity and moss. He was lying on a filthy pallet, and apparently Olsen’s cut had bled again while he was unconscious, because there were dark red stains going brown near his face. Every muscle in his body ached, and for a while he was so overwhelmed by their screaming, by the demands of every single limb that he _fix_ this, that he couldn’t even close his eyes. Instead he remained perfectly still, until existing became more or less bearable again.

Once he had gathered enough strength, he slowly turned so that he was lying on his side, and observed his surroundings. There were no windows, but rather a large mirror covering the opposite wall. Loki had watched enough CSI episodes with Heimdall to know anyone could be, and most probably was, watching him from the other side. The pallet was the only thing inside the room. Apparently Hydra people were suckers for minimalism.

He closed his eyes again and focused on breathing. In, out, in, out, in, out. It was difficult when his lungs protested at the effort and refused to fill up, but he forced them to. It was like trying to breathe fire, and because he knew there wasn’t any fire in the room, he guessed they had done something to his nose. From the itch, it was probably burnt. After a while, the pain quietened to a constant, low beating through his body, and bearing with it had exhausted him so much, he let himself doze off again.

* * *

 

The next time he woke, there were people inside his cell. Frey and Freya Njordsen.

“Hey, he’s awake,” exclaimed Frey, then crouched besides him. “Loki? Loki, how are you feeling?”

Loki stared at him, trying to gather enough strength to speak. And he said, “Fuck you.”

Behind her brother, Freya said, “He’s already falling asleep again, Frey. Leave him alone.”

Loki wanted to tell her to fuck herself too, but she was right and he was drifting into sleep one more time.

* * *

The third time he woke, Mark and Olsen were waiting for him, sitting with their back against the opposite wall. The second Loki opened his eyes, Mark screamed, “Awake!”

Half unconscious still, Loki watched as Olsen stood and walked towards him. With a small flashlight, Olsen opened Loki’s left eye and lit it up. Then he asked Loki, “Can you tell me what year it is?”

“Two thousand and eighteen,” mumbled Loki.

“Yeah, he’s conscious.” Olsen turned off the flashlight, and turned to Mark. “But he’s crappy, I don’t know if he can even stand.”

“What do we do?” asked Mark, scratching the base of his neck.

Looking at Loki again, Olsen shrugged. “Hela wants him. So we take him.”

“Awright, Olsen.”

* * *

Hela asked him about the mole’s name again. When she did, Loki could see Hawkeye’s face in his mind clearly, his potato nose and his chestnut hair. His voice was calm and reassuring in Loki’s memories, assuring them that they got this, so Loki said, no, I do not know what you are talking about. She said, very well, little brother, as you wish, and told Mark and Olsen to beat him up until he spoke. Loki passed out after the third blow to his chest.

* * *

 

This time he woke to a chair, a comfortable padded chair they had sat him on. He didn’t try to move, because he had felt one of his ribs crack when Olsen kicked him, and it already hurt enough when he breathed. Instead he opened his eyes as wide as he could and watched his surroundings. Hela was there again, sitting behind her bureau, fingers intertwined as she rested her chin on them.

“Tell me who the mole is, Loki,” she said. She wasn’t smiling anymore. Instead her lips were pressed in a tight line, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him. “And they will all live.”

“No one ever told me about a mole,” Loki panted. Breathing was awful. “No one told me…”

“Stop lying,” shouted Hela, furious. “I’m not stupid. Tell me. Who. The fucking mole. Is.”

“No one ever told me about a mole,” he repeated, wishing she would believe him.  
But Hela didn’t believe him.

“Bring them,” she said into the microphone again. A few minutes after Frey and Freya walked inside the room, and trailing behind them were Tony and Saga. Tony looked even worse than before, his clothes ripped apart, a large wound soaking his side with blood. But it was Saga’s looks that shook Loki the most. Small scabs splashed her skin like freckles, only Loki knew they weren’t excesses of pigmentation. Her eyes were hollow and lost as she stared at the floor, and her mouth hung slightly open, like she was a lifeless doll. “Now, Loki. I will only ask this one more time. Who is the mole? And before you tell me that I-don’t-know bullshit again, take your time to look at them carefully.”

Loki began shaking as he watched Saga reach for Tony’s hand, something she always did with Loki when she was afraid of something. “The Them them here,” she whispered. “They here and hurt I, and she hurt I and pabbi Tony.”

“Stay with me, Saga,” said Tony, squeezing her hand carefully. He caught Loki’s eye and swallowed, looking… Urgent. Loki didn’t even know what he looked like, only that this was wrong, because Tony was an incredible young man and no one, no one had the right to lay a finger on him and leave him in this state. And Saga was _his child,_ and he would make every single Hydra agent regret ever hurting her. Tony coughed. “No one can hurt you while I’m with you. So stay with me.”

“Well?” asked Hela.

“Please!” screamed Loki, trying to get up only to discover he had been tied to the chair again. “She is only a child! They are innocents!”

It wasn’t the answer Hela had been expecting. She looked at Loki with disgust, slamming her fists against the table. “Alright, brother,” she hissed. “We’ll do this your way. Olsen!”

Smiling like a kid, Olsen stepped forwards towards Tony and Saga, a hand on his sheathed knife already as he did so. His eyes were fixed on Saga, who screamed and buried her face in Tony’s side, and began mumbling about the Them and about how she was being hurt and she disliked it. Then Olsen unsheathed the knife, and reached for Saga—

“Hawkeye!” screamed Loki. Defeated, he closed his eyes and bit his lower lip, hoping that Natasha and Bucky would forgive him someday. “Hawkeye,” he repeated. “I only know his nickname—Hawkeye. He was in Natasha and Bucky and Steve’s team. Please, do not hurt her. She is just a little girl, and she has done no wrong to you.”

Olsen groaned when Hela put her hand up, commanding him to stop.

“Hawkeye.” She looked away and tilted her head, frowning as she thought and mouthed the name in silence. Then she grinned. “Hawkeye. Clint Barton. Of course. He joined Hydra around the same dates as Natasha and her boys, and a few days ago he brought a new USB to work, one we hadn’t provided him with. That’s where you got the schedules of our watchmen—Barton stole them for you. It was him.”

“Let them go,” said Loki in a whine. He noticed that she didn’t know Bucky and him had been spying on her watchmen for three nights straight, so he wondered how she had found out about their breaking in the warehouses. “They have never wronged you. Please.”

“Hm.” Breathing out slowly, Hela rested her head against her hand as she looked at Tony and Saga. Then she parted her lips, making a wet, clicking sound as she did so. “Frey, Freya…” She smiled wickedly. “I want them on the floor. Screaming.”

“What? No!” howled Loki, trying to get up desperately, feeling the rope burn into his skin as he writhed and tried to break free. “You have no right! I told you already, Hawkeye! Hela, please!”

“If you had told me earlier,” she replied with a cold voice, “I wouldn’t have to do this. Learn your lesson, brother: if someone asks you a question, you answer.” She stood up, but then she saw Olsen and Mark approach Tony and Saga, and she snapped her fingers. “Olsen, Mark, wait outside.”

“What? But all the fun is here!” complained Olsen. “We’ve earned it, haven’t we?”

“Outside, I said,” she barked, like she was giving orders to a dog. “My little brother is going to watch a very special spectacle. Two of his dearest friends are going to hurt the two loves of his life a little.” She smiled at Loki as she spoke. “Hope you enjoy the show, brother. And while you watch, while you see what they have to endure…”

She walked up to Loki and grabbed his face with her hand, nails digging into Loki’s cheeks as she forced him to look at Tony. Standing behind Loki, she bent forwards and whispered in his ear, “Remember that this is all your fault.”

Olsen and Mark went outside grumpily, muttering how they always missed all the fun. When they closed the door, Frey and Freya looked at each other, their faces empty, although Loki would’ve sworn he saw Frey give her an almost imperceptible nod. Then Freya reached for something inside her left boot, crouching as she drove two fingers between her calf and the coarse material, as Frey drove Tony and Saga to their knees. Tony’s head dropped, and Loki could only see his dark curls as Freya rose clutching a small something…

And suddenly the panelled ceiling collapsed atop of Hela and Loki. Loki felt her fingers leave new scratches as her hand withdrew from his face, and heard her scream. Something hit the back of his chair so hard, he fell to the floor, but before he could smash his head against the concrete another something made him turn so that he landed on his back, and the padding of the chair absorbed most of the impact. Now he was face up, and he heard the clicking sound of a gun’s hammer being cocked.

“Get him up,” said Frey somewhere near Loki’s face. Loki heard Tony grunt, and shortly after he was dragged away from the middle of the room. After cutting the ropes that tied him to the chair, Tony grabbed Loki by the arms and helped him stand.

“Tony,” he babbled.

Tony was bruised, covered in dirt, and looked like he had just gone through a mincer, but his eyes showed their usual spark, awake and alert. “Look at me,” he commanded, and he bowed his head slightly to have a better view of Loki’s eyes. He used his fingers to open them, then dropped his hands. Taking Loki’s arm and looping it around his neck, his left hand on Loki’s hip, he turned around slightly so Loki could see what was happening.

Freya was pointing a small gun at Hela, who was on all four on the floor. Blood trickled down her face, and from her broken lip. Holding her in place was Natasha, her fiery red mane falling down on her right shoulder like a cascade of fire. She looked like a goddess of war as she pressed the barrel of a gun against Hela’s neck.

Spitting to her right, Hela snorted. “What’s this?” she demanded, looking at Freya. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Sorry, but there’s a change of plans,” said Frey. He got out a gun similar to his sister’s and pointed it at Hela, too, slowly cocking the hammer with his thumb.

“OLSEN! MARK!” screamed Hela. For the first time since Loki had met her, she looked nervous, knowing that things were escaping her control. “HELP!”

Someone did kick the door open, but it wasn’t Olsen and Mark. His breath slightly uneven, a smiling Bucky Barnes dropped Olsen and Mark, whom he had been holding up by the collars of their jackets. “Sorry, they’re out of service,” he said. “Lokes, you look horrible.”

“What do you think you’re doing!? You’re all fucking idiots!” screamed Hela. “You’re all fucking idiots if you think you can attack us in our headquarters and get out alive! Schmidt is—!”

“Currently under our vigilance,” interrupted Bucky. “Sorry, lady, but it seems like you’ve missed a few things. After all your bragging, I thought you would be clever enough to remind your soldiers to frisk us for transmitters. It was slightly disappointing when they didn’t.”

Narrowing her eyes with hatred, Hela hissed, “You won’t get away with this. You’re what, five? Six? In this building alone there are hundreds of Hydra agents. You just signed your own death sentence.”

Bucky leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest as he puckered his lips and looked away from her, like he was trying to remember something. “Hm. Right, I forgot to tell you—my bad. When I said ‘our vigilance’, I meant ‘our’ as in ‘S.H.I.E.L.D.’s’. Sorry. Right now, this building is under our full control.”

“NO!” she screamed, the cry turning hoarse at the end of the word, as if she had damaged her vocal chords. “NO! I WAS SO CLOSE!”

“You aren’t anymore.” Bucky walked into the room, careful not to step onto Olsen and Mark. “Nice try, though. Next time, try not to leave loose ends. Friendly advice.”

“Clint Barton? He was a nobody,” she spat. “He never got even close to the upper spheres. We knew he had something to do with you scum.”

With a grin, Bucky shook his head, and chuckled. “Clint? No, Hela. He wasn’t the loose end.”

Then Steve Rogers walked inside the room, and Loki saw Natasha stiffen. Although he still looked like a castaway, and hobbled slightly, he looked every bit the imposing man Bucky had depicted him as. His biceps bulged when he crossed his arms. “I was.”

“Steve!” cried Natasha, looking at him as if he were the only person in the room.

“Hello, Nat.”

For the briefest of moments Natasha loosened her grip on Hela, who immediately thrashed about and broke free. In a fluid movement she hit Natasha’s neck with the back of her hand, making the spy grunt as she lost balance and fell to the floor, then she stole her gun and aimed it at Saga, who had been standing besides Loki to hold his hand.

“Scum,” she repeated, her breathing uneven. “You do as I say, or you say goodbye to the kid.”

Saga shrieked, pressing against Loki’s side. Feeling a thousand burning needles piercing his side with every inch he moved, Loki stepped forwards so that he was covering her with his body. Tony inhaled sharply, but he stepped forwards too.

“Try,” breathed Loki.

Hela pressed her lips together, but then she smiled. “Let me go,” she said slowly, “or you say goodbye to the kid _and_ my brother.”

Everything happened so fast, Loki almost didn’t see it. Tony suddenly dropped to the ground, wrapping his arms around Loki’s waist as he did so, so that Loki fell atop of him, against Tony’s muscled chest and warmth. Saga crouched like a little frog, screaming and screaming and screaming, letting go of Loki’s hand to cover her head with both arms. Bucky and Steve darted forwards, past the Njordsens, while Freya fired her gun without a trace of doubt. One second Hela was standing, and the next she was on her knees, howling and holding her bleeding hand. Natasha’s gun had fallen to the ground with a heavy ‘thump’, and Steve kicked it out of Hela’s reach as Bucky handcuffed Hela’s hands behind her back, her wrists held together by Natasha. The handcuffs were two small discs that buzzed as they touched Hela’s skin, immediately widening into bracelets. Hela squirmed when she tried to pull away from Natasha’s firm grip, moaning as the handcuffs released a buzzing sound.

“Not today,” hissed Tony under Loki. He looked away from Hela to look at Loki, who was breathing unevenly atop of him. “Are you hurt?”

“Uh,” gasped Loki. Tony’s arms were around him in a gesture that was partly protective, partly an affectionate hug, but he tried to break free because this was all a trap, it had to, it was Hela’s plans to get them all, to capture everyone who was important to Loki and use them against him, to torture him and hurt them to hurt him…

“Loki. Look at me, Loki.”

Loki watched as Natasha and Bucky forced Hela to her feet, Steve behind them holding Natasha’s gun. They held her upright, and then footsteps echoed in the corridor. Frey and Freya, who had cocked the hammer of her gun again, stepped aside as three men walked inside the room. It was getting a little crowded.

One of them was Hawkeye, and another was Stephen Strange, tall and lean. When she saw him, Hela’s face turned bright red in anger, and she bared her teeth at him.

The third one was dark-skinned, slightly taller than Hawkeye, and wore a black patch on his left eye. As he walked up to the Njordsens, his long raincoat fluttered like a superhero cape.

“We meet finally, Hela Angrbodadóttir.”

“Allföðr,” she said. “Not even you can invalidate my genetics, Fury.”

Fury looked at her without showing any emotion, arms behind his back, legs slightly open. Where Steve or Bucky were all muscles, he was pure intimidation, his presence so powerful Loki himself felt a little taken aback. Then he thought the name rang a bell vaguely, for he must have heard it before… Somewhere.

“No. I can’t. But I can charge you with first-degree murder, extortion, torture, smuggling, and money laundering, among others.” Fury’s accent was funny, speaking every word as if he were weighing them on his lips as they came out. “Check mate, miss Angrbodadóttir.”

“You don’t have anything against me!” Hela shouted desperately. “All the files Clint Barton sent to Natasha Romanoff were obtained unlawfully, so you can’t use them in court!”

Hawkeye and Strange looked at each other in the eye, and shrugged.

“Agreed,” said Strange. “But if I hand them my reports and investigations freely, and they take all the material I own from my lab with my consent to compare it to the several biological weapons and poisons Hydra has used over the years, that proof is within the law.”

“Or if I allow them to revise my Hydra e-mail account,” added Hawkeye. “Lucky me, I made backup copies every week before the formatting of the server.”

“Hey, maybe I can help.” Steve waved his hand at Hawkeye. “Nowadays they still accept witnesses in court, right? Surely I can help fill them in on what happened in Sokovia.”

Besides him, Natasha and Bucky looked at each other.

“Do you think they will believe two runaways’ word, Nat?” asked Bucky.

“Maybe. Heimdall,” she screamed, looking at the ceiling, “you got her saying how Bucky, Steve, Clint and I were recruited by Hydra, right?”

“Absolutely.” Somewhere in the rooms there were speakers, and from them came Heimdall’s soft voice. Loki could feel his smile. “In fact, I have access to every single recording of every single camera in the building. Give me a second, and they will be inside the USB and ready to be shipped to court. Hello, sir. I am really sorry it took us this long, but it was a little difficult to hack Hydra’s communications.”

“Download every single beating Loki and I have taken in the past twenty-four hours,” ordered Tony. “Unfortunately the recordings are deleted every night at midnight, so we have nothing on how they captured Bucky and Loki, but today’s violence should be revealing enough.”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Actually, we do. Sorry, Lokes, I wasn’t entirely honest about the contact lenses—night vision, yeah, but also live broadcasting back to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s computers.”

“All in all, miss Angrbodadóttir,” said Fury calmly, “we do have some things against you.”

“NO!” she roared. Natasha and Bucky forced her to her feet, and began pushing her towards the door. Frey, Freya and Steve ushered them out, never lowering their guns. So this was it. This was how the nightmare ended. This was the end of Hela.

Fury looked down at Loki, Tony and Saga.

“Strange,” he barked. “Mister Laufeyson has taken some severe beating, and I’m afraid he might have a skull fracture. Tend to him immediately.”

Stephen Strange nodded, and knelt down besides Tony and Loki. He felt the back of Loki’s head, and the sharp, stabbing pain returned. But Loki was too exhausted to complain. “Open fracture,” he announced, frowning. “Comminuted.” Then he accepted the small lantern Hawkeye handed him—apparently everybody had lanterns in their pockets now?—and aimed its light at Loki’s eyes, first one then the other. “Pupils are not reacting to light. Fury, we need an ambulance. Surgery is required, I don’t know if the pieces of bone have pierced the brain. Laufeyson. Laufeyson, talk to me.”

“Tony,” gasped Loki. “Tony, I am sorry I… Got you in this mess,” he breathed. Strange grabbed his face gently but firmly and scanned the cuts Hela and Olsen had made.

“Potential infection of the cuts in his face,” he informed, barely able to keep his temper. “Clean cut from forehead to eyelid, deep scratches from eye to chin. Swollen eye, no immediate threat to the eyeball. Split lip, needs stitching. First-degree burns in the columella, allae and nostrils, with possible damage to nasal cavity. Probably caused by inhalation of a strong, corrosive smelling salt. Further examination of the torso required.”

“No,” whispered Loki when Tony opened his arms, and Strange helped him roll so that he was face up. “No, no, Tony, do not let me go.”

“Shh, shh, I won’t. Loki, sweetheart, I won’t, but you have to let Strange examine you. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere, I promise you.”

Strange pressed his ribcage softly, then leaned forwards and listened to Loki’s breathing. “Two broken ribs,” he announced after a while, “though only cracked, apparently. CT scan or MRI will be run to confirm the state of the fracture.”

Loki had trouble hearing him, for suddenly Strange was far, far away from him, and his words reached him slowly and barely, and he had to make an effort to understand him but he didn’t want to make any more efforts, because he was so tired. Detached, he registered Hawkeye entering the room, carrying a large black box. Strange reached for it and opened it immediately.

“Loki,” said Tony.” I’m going to move, alright? Hawkeye and Fury will help me. But I’m staying with you, you hear me?”

“Hnnn,” whined Loki, unable to feel Tony under him anymore. As he panicked and his breathing grew uneven, he felt a rush in his ears, as if he were falling from the heights.

“Loki? Loki! Lokes, stay with me! Strange, do something!” Tony yelled, but Loki couldn’t see them now, because everything was black, and “Loki!”, and he was so tired—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yASSS I love this chapter so much aldkdkak


	17. Charm Quark

_ Drip, drip, drip _

**bump**

_ Be-beep, be-beep, be-beep. _

_ “I need an OR, Fury. I won’t put a scalpel through his head in an ambulance.” _

_ “We don’t have any OR at hand here, Strange, so save his goddamned life.” _

_ “Then get me to one. I’m not going to operate on him when we’re on the road. A bump while the bistoury is inside, and he’s over.” _

_ Drip, drip, drip, dr _

* * *

It smelled like the latex gloves Loki had to wear whenever they went to the Biology lab. He vaguely guessed it was most probably the default hospital smell that was supposed to be either pine trees or fresh lemon scent, depending on the cleanser. Of course, it never smelled like pine trees or fresh lemon scent—whoever got a saying on the smell the product would be sold as having had clearly never come across neither a pine tree, nor a fresh lemon. Hospitals shouldn’t smell like bleach, anyways. They should smell reassuringly, maybe like lavender or candy or something as pleasant. Saga would sure vote for candy. 

Sweet she was indeed. Loki wanted to braid her beautiful white hair. When he did it in the mornings, after she had gotten dressed with Berglind’s help, she closed her eyes and breathed very quietly, as though his hands on her hair relaxed her. It did relax him. He wanted to braid her hair, as she said, “like a princess’”, which would make her happy. The sea campions and white clovers in the forest were blooming now, so they would get outside after her daily lessons at the orphanage and make a flower crown. Princess Saga would giggle as Loki crowned her, and then she would rule for the rest of the afternoon with a smile like candy cotton and eyes like lit-up candles.

Candy cotton which they would eat when they went to the leisure park. Loki had promised the children he would take them there, so he would, but Heimdall and Berglind would have to help him because there were many kids, and only two eyes on Loki’s face to watch over them all. Most surely Heimdall would agree only because he could pretend the liquorice he was buying in industrial amounts was for the children, and then proceed to hide it inside his backpack for his late-night Rupaul’s Drag Race marathons. But three grown-ups weren’t enough to watch over twenty-eight children, and he had forgotten that Berglind would want to stay home with the two babies, so Loki would have to get extra help from somewhere else. Thor and Odin were going to pay a visit soon, so maybe they would like to give him a hand. Or the Njordsens, they always liked the kids. Frey specially.

But something felt  _ wrong  _ with that idea, wait, no, the Njordsens wouldn’t help out because they wouldn’t be eating candy cotton because they wouldn’t be going to the leisure park—

_ Be-be-bep be-be-bep be-be-bep be-be-bep _

—and Frey and Freya weren’t his friends because they had betrayed him and the children and Tony and no no Tony was hurt so where is Tony where am I I have to get out of here why is it dark Tony please no where are you are you safe please be safe—

—but where are you I cannot see you are you hurt I want to help but I do not know how and I am afraid of losing you where are you Tony?

It still smelled like antiseptic, but there was something else in the air, which tickled in Loki’s nose. When the tickling became itching Loki tried to reach up to scratch his nose, but he couldn’t, because he couldn’t feel his arm. It was all dark and heavy. He figured that if he succeeded in opening his eyes, then maybe the rest of his body would follow suit and start working again, and he would be able to scratch his nose.

His eyelids were the heaviest thing, resisting his attempts at forcing them apart as if they were glued. But Loki was stubborn enough to get through their heaviness, and after a small effort he could open his eyes. Said eyes were blinded immediately by the overload of bright white, which was so much it physically hurt. White everywhere—the walls, the sheets, the floor, the ceiling, all discoloured into a nuclear radiance. He inhaled sharply, refusing to close his eyes out of fear that they wouldn’t open another time, and tried to get used to it. After a few instants his eyes burned with dryness, so he had to blink. One time. Then another one. And a third one, just in case.

Slowly he began to take in the several stimuli poking at him, little by little. There was a small rumbling in the back of his head, pulsing steadily, which was strong enough that he was aware of it, but not as loud as to hurt. Also, his chest felt heavy with pressure. Half of his face felt tight. The other half felt numb. Around him the sheets were silky smooth. Thin tubes sprouted from several places on his arms, and as he looked at them, he began to feel them inside his flesh, which was uncomfortable and awkward and, in some cases, as with the one in the crook of his elbow, hurtful.

“Uh,” he honked, drowsy. “Uh, eh.”

Which wasn’t even a thing.

As he sniffed, the itch about to become unbearable, he stared down at his hand, which was held by another hand, this one showing scarring wounds. It was tanner than Loki’s, and bigger, and rougher. And there were purplish veins running under the skin like secret rivers, and as he looked at them Loki realised he knew them, he knew all the geography of that hand, because it was Tony’s hand and he had fallen asleep several times being held by it.

Now, though, it was Tony who had dozed off while holding Loki, and with a little effort Loki turned his head just enough to see that Tony’s was quietly sleeping on a wheelchair besides him, one arm reaching out to his left to hold Loki’s hand and the other stretched across his torso to hold himself. His head had dropped to the side, in a posture that promised to leave behind a sore neck, and his lips were slightly parted, showing the barest glimpse of teeth. As he breathed in and out at the slow, steady pace of the asleep, his chest rose and fell. Loki stared, and for a while the only thing that existed was Tony breathing. 

As he did so, though, he realised that Tony’s figure was slightly blurry. Everything was. As in pictures taken while walking, or dreams. 

Someone opened the door, and Loki winced at the sound. It was a nurse, judging from the blue scrubs.

“Good morning,” he said, smiling at Loki. His dark skin was a visual relief for Loki, and as the man handled his tubes and checked on him, taking up most of Loki’s field of vision, Loki focused on his arms. “Have you been awake long, mister Laufeyson?”

“Nuh,” Loki answered. His mouth was dry and tasted disgustingly, he realised. 

“Well, then. Here, can you please look at me?” Expert fingers ran down Loki’s cheek as the man examined his face. “Hm. These are healing well enough.”

The nurse went on checking every injury and healing wound, and Loki let his thoughts wander as he did. They went nowhere. For some reason there was a song on his mind—ABBA’s Dancing Queen. After mentally singing the chorus three times straight he tried to think of a different song, but he couldn’t focus enough to come up with any title. So he stuck to dancing and jiving and having the time of his life.

“Alright, I’ll be calling Doctor Strange,” announced the nurse after a while. “He’ll be happy to know that you woke up. And he,” then he pointed at Tony, “will, too, when he wakes up. He was very worried. Don’t trust the wheelchair. He nearly knocked two of my colleagues out when they tried to wheel him out of the room in his sleep.”

It was something Tony would absolutely do. Somehow Loki knew he shouldn’t be feeling so peaceful, but he couldn’t bring himself to think about the reasons why. Although he knew it was mostly because he was very high with whatever they were feeding him via the tubes, he couldn’t bring himself to care, either. 

“Bye,” Loki mumbled when the man opened the door to leave. His nursing shoes squeaked disgustingly as he turned on his heels. 

Then he waited a few minutes more. Tony wouldn’t wake up still, and he looked so at ease, Loki didn’t want to bother him. Watching him sleep soothed Loki, so it was a win-win situation anyways. While he waited for Doctor Strange, Loki thought of candy cotton, flower crowns, and white hair braided. And ABBA.

* * *

 

Doctor Strange gifted him with a small smile when he entered the room. Loki tried to smile back but couldn’t. The dizziness was turning into a headache. Also, Strange was being noisy. Very noisy. When he accidentally brushed Loki’s sheets, the sound made his heart ache. Strange frowned when he noticed Loki’s gritted teeth.

“Did the noise bother you?” he asked Loki.

“Yes.”

“That’s normal. You had a mild concussion, after all, which was a miracle considering that your skull was fractured. We made sure that no pieces of bone had pierced the brain, and although the occipital lobe was slightly swollen from the blows your head took, the MRI said there was nothing to worry about.” Strange reached for Loki’s head and touched the crown of it. It hurt. “Surely that hurt. Sorry. It’s still healing from the operation.”

“Okay,” said Loki, unsure whether there was anything that could be answered to that.

“Some of the most common symptoms during the recovery include headaches, dizziness, trouble focusing, sleeping disorders such as insomnia, and feelings such as anxiety, depression, irritability, or apathy. You seem to be particularly sensitive to noise as well. It’s part of the healing process. Still,” and he retired his hands from Loki’s head, “in your case experiencing anxiety or depression will be derived, most surely, from the traumatic incidents you suffered at Hydra. I will refer you to mental health as soon as I’m certain your scalp isn’t going to tear open and start bleeding all over the place.”

Making an effort to concentrate, Loki said, “Family. My family, I want to see them.”

Although he knew it had been slightly rude of him, for Strange had been giving him important information, his mind couldn’t be bothered to stay tuned to the several consequences of mild concussions. He thought of Odin and Thor, and suddenly he could barely breathe under the crushing pressure of needing to see them and check that they were  _ alive _ , they were  _ alright _ .

“Alright. But first I need you to calm down.” Strange stared at somewhere above Loki’s head, presumably monitors. “If you don’t, you’re going to have a panic attack. Tell me five places you’d like to go to.”

“Spain,” breathed Loki, feeling his chest tight with anguish. He tried to think of a map of the world. “Uh, Ushuaia, in Argentina. South Africa. Uh, uh.” He puffed out twice, blinking fast to keep the tears at bay. “Uh, Scotland.”

“Very well. You’re doing great, Loki.” Strange, though, didn’t look as if Loki were doing great. His brows were knit in concern, and he reached for one of the tubes.

“No!” shouted Loki. “No, no more drugs, please. I want to go to, uh, eh, I want to go to uh…” He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking. “Greece. I want to go to Greece. That makes five places. No more drugs, please.”

Strange closed his hand, and dropped it to his lap. “Alright. No more drugs. But you have to help me, or else I won’t have any choice.”

“How long have I been here?”

Avoiding Loki’s eyes, Strange answered, “Over a week. You had some rough injuries, mister Laufeyson. We had to give you stitches on your face and your head. Also, you broke two ribs and a finger. We plastered you up so that they will heal correctly. As for...”

“Strange, you loud bastard. I was sleeping.” Tony’s hand squeezed Loki’s as Tony tossed, waking up. “ _ I  _ will ruin your nap the next time you—hey.”

When he realised that Loki was awake he immediately clutched his hand, with such strength that it nearly hurt. He wrapped their hands with his free one, like he treasured Loki’s. He leaned forwards and kissed Loki’s wrist. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Morning.”

Then he stared down Strange with such intensity, Loki could nearly feel the room heat up. It lasted for a few seconds before Tony said, “Planet Earth to Strange. This was obviously your cue to leave, so I don’t know why you’re still here.”

“Keep up the rude,” said Strange, “and I’ll be taking you off painkillers a few days earlier than I planned to. Loki, if you feel any pain or distress, press this button.” He took down a square plastic box from the wall, and gave it to Loki. There was a bright red button in the middle. “Sam will come in to check on you immediately. Stark, five minutes. After I’m taking the family in, and wheeling you out.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Tony wrinkled his nose. “Hopefully that nurse of yours didn’t lose the nail. If she did, sorry, but I warned her.”

Strange shook his head, then checked Loki’s vitals one more time before getting up and leaving the room. Loki shrunk in the bed at every step he took, and only relaxed when Strange closed the door behind him. Remembering some tips on handling panic attacks that his psychologist had given him, he breathed in slowly, trying to picture himself being filled with air. Then he held it for a few seconds before letting it all out, contracting his abs towards the end. He did it over and over again until the last remnants of anxiety faded. Besides him, Tony waited patiently.

When Loki was done, they stared at each other in silence for a while.

“I am sorry,” said Loki in the end.

“What for?” asked Tony.

“This. You. Me. Hela. All that has happened. You should have never become mixed up in this mess. They hurt you. I am sorry.”

Playing with Loki’s fingers, Tony took a few seconds to weigh his words. Then he closed his eyes, exhaled heavily, and said, “Bullshit, Lokes.” Then he manoeuvred with the wheelchair until his body was facing Loki’s bed, cursing under his breath as he did, and leaned forwards to pull Loki into a bear hug. “Complete bullshit. You don’t have a thing to be sorry for. When the Njordsens told me what was going on, I chose to walk into the mess.”

“But they tricked you,” Loki insisted, “and me, and everyone. I—Tony, when Hela made them bring you in, I thought you would end up dead. I thought she would make them beat you until you could never stand up again. And I thought, it is my fault.”

“You and your martyr complex,” complained Tony. “Shut up and listen for once, will you? Loki, the Njordsens told me  _ everything  _ from the start. I knew they were infiltrated in Hydra, and I knew what might happen to me if I agreed to help them. When we flew to Iceland, I was perfectly conscious of the risk I was taking, of what I was getting into. They warned me that I would get hurt. They warned me that most probably  _ you  _ would get hurt, and they couldn’t assure me that S.H.I.E.L.D.’s plans were going to work. And I said yes, sure, count me in, let’s kick some asses. So don’t say it’s your fault, because it isn’t. Okay?”

“But I—”

“Shut up,” commanded Tony. “I don’t ever want to hear you blame yourself for this again. If your sister was a manic psycho, that’s not your fault. If those Matt and Owen assholes were a pair of sadistic dumbasses, that’s not your fault. If we all went behind your back to bring Hydra down without telling you anything, that’s not your fault. Nothing here is your fault. We all knew things except you, and still you stumbled through all the crap somehow. So shut up and let me comfort you.”

He broke the hug to hold Loki’s face and kiss his forehead, then his nose, then he rested his forehead against Loki’s rubbing his cheeks with his thumbs. After a while he moved his other fingers too, caressing Loki’s neck. All the while he looked into Loki’s eyes.

“When you phoned me to say the Njordsens weren’t to be trusted,” he whispered after a while, and Loki could feel his warm breath against his lips, “and you warned me that they’d be attacking the Stark Tower, I almost gave in. Frey had warned me, and we were making sure all the kids were safe. I thought I wasn’t afraid, but when I heard you, you were so concerned that I ached to tell you I knew, it was all under control, and it would be fine. If I did, it’d be over. The twins had had to intervene all my communications, and Hydra would know they were undercover agents if I slipped off. And I didn’t care. Because when I told you to stop pushing us away, you sounded  _ broken _ , Lokes, and I had been the one to break you.”

Loki remembered that Bucky had suggested Tony might have acted weird because he had, too, found out about the Njordsens working for Hydra. He remembered thinking Bucky was wrong, and he regretted not having listened to him. He should have trusted Tony more. He should have—

“Uh-oh.” Tony tilted his head. “No, no. I just told you to cut the martyr shit off, and I know that face. You’re thinking you should’ve done this or that and that, in the end, you are guilty for everything. Nope, not today.” Then he leaned forward and kissed Loki’s lips gently. 

Tony and he had kissed many times. Cheerfully, passionately, lazily, hungrily, reassuringly, sweetly, spicily. But this was something else entirely. This was promisingly. When Loki opened his mouth and let Tony remember what he had long been unable to taste, Tony didn’t accept the invitation. He went on kissing Loki chastely, smiling against Loki’s mouth when Loki closed it again in confusion. And because of that smile, Loki’s heart fell for him again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tony whispered against his lips when they pulled apart for air. “Not now, not ever. Deal with me, Lokes.”

“Uh, yeah.” Loki closed his eyes, trying to gather enough focus. Then he remembered the candy cotton, and the flower crown, and the braided white hair. “Saga. Saga, where is she? I need to see her. She was hurt and—”

Something above his head began beeping loudly, and Tony grabbed his forearms. “Shh, Loki, shh, she’s fine, she’s fine. She took some blows, but Strange checked on her and she only got some bruises. Heimdall has been taking good care of her. Also, Thor and Jane have been helping Frey and Freya with all your children. Don’t worry. They’re all safe, and so are you.”

“Only bruises,” repeated Loki. Tears ran down his cheeks. “She should not have taken any blow. She is only a child.”

“I know.” Tony lowered his eyes. “I know. And I’m sorry it took all of this to bring your sister and Hydra down. But it’s over now.”

They remained silent for a while. Tony laced his fingers through Loki’s and rested his head against Loki’s shoulder. Closing his eyes, Loki allowed himself to be reassured by Tony’s touch. A part of him screamed that he didn’t deserve it, that he didn’t deserve any of the people in his life, but he remembered Tony’s words and went through them again and again until he almost believed them. 

“I love you,” said Loki after a while. Tony opened his eyes wide, startled, and Loki’s cheeks heated up. “Sorry if it sounds scary. But I thought you were going to die, and I realised I had never said it to you. Not openly. Tony, I love you.”

Tony opened and closed his mouth a few times, then he swallowed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. When he tapped on the screen twice, it lit up. Below the hour and the date was the picture they had taken at the cinema. The same screensaver as Loki’s.

“See? When I look at it, I remember you blushing when you said she called you ‘dad’, and that that made me whatever I wanted to be. Well, I grew a little envious—I want to be ‘dad’, too.” He put the phone away, and looked into Loki’s eyes with devotion. “Loki, I’d say I love you too, but that’s inaccurate. I love you, and I love our future, and I love the family we’re going to build together. If you and Saga will have me, of course. But no more criminal organisations angst, and no more international drama. From now on it’s going to be just us spoiling our child and being soppy idiots in love.”

Loki drew in a little breath. Something was bursting inside his chest, but it wasn’t a bad thing. It was something warm and soft, and because he didn’t trust his voice, he simply nodded. He nodded until Tony laughed and held his head to stop him, and got his phone out again. He kissed Loki’s cheek and took a selfie, then pressed his cheek against Loki’s and smiled at the camera before snapping another picture.

“I’m going to be printing these tomorrow,” he announced. “And putting them in your scrapbook. This is where our new life starts. Get ready to have it amazing.”

“With you,” Loki said, “everything is always amazing.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to impress you. It doesn’t work if  _ you  _ compliment  _ me _ .”

“In your own words,  _ deal with me, Stark _ .”

“With gusto, Laufeyson.”

Tony was about to draw him in for another kiss when someone knocked on the door. Tony rolled his eyes. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll wait.” He snorted, and pulled away, still holding Loki’s hand. “Come in, everyone. Party at room 715.”

The door opened, and immediately the room was flooded with people. Heimdall led the group, smiling widely when he saw Loki, a massive bouquet of flowers nestled in his right arm. With his left hand he led Saga in, a smiling, healthy-looking Saga, who squealed when she saw Loki and ran towards the bed to jump atop of it and pat Loki’s face with enthusiasm. Behind Heimdall were Frey and Freya, Freya giving Stian a piggyback ride and Tyra between the two twins, holding her brother’s hand. The two sets of siblings smiled at Loki brightly Thor and Jane followed, Jane’s arm around Thor’s waist and Thor’s hand on Alecksandar’s shoulder. Alecksandar’s stern gaze softened when he spotted Loki, and he nodded at him. Odin walked in with a cane, looking undefeatable nonetheless in his suit, and walked over to Loki’s bed immediately to kiss his son’s forehead. Then Natasha walked in with Hawkeye, and behind them were Bucky and Steve. The room was full now, and everyone wanted to get to Loki, so it grew pretty noisy. Loki winced at this, but when Saga smacked her little lips against his nose and said, “ _ Pabbi, pabbi, ég saknaði þín mikið, _ ” and Tony squeezed his hand, he felt strong enough to deal with it.

“You, me, and Grace and Frankie tonight,” said Heimdall when he reached Loki’s side, offering him the flowers. “Think about it.”

“Are you trying to seduce me into having a Netflix marathon?” asked Loki. “Because it is working.”

“Ha! You bet I am.” Heimdall rested a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “All these chickens were afraid that you may not make it, but I knew you would. Welcome back to the world of the living, sir.”

“Do not call me sir.”

“Then do not nearly die ever again.”

Loki blinked furiously. “I, uh, I will try.”

He stepped aside, but before he helped Saga upwards so that she was lying besides him, her head nestled in Loki’s armpit. She purred like a kitten and curled up, her knees against Loki’s side, her little hands on his plastered chest. “ _ Pabbi, pabbi, pabbi _ ,” she said over and over. She smiled when Loki said, “I missed you too,  _ hjartað mitt. _ ”

Then it was the Njordsens’ turn. Tyra patted Loki’s arm when she approached him, and solely said, “Thank you for protecting us.” Stian nodded, and whispered something into Freya’s ear. Freya smiled.

“He says he knows you tried to help him,” she explained. “And that he thanks you for that. I…” Then she quietened as Stian said something else to her. “Oh, sweetheart, no. He asks whether you’re angry that he didn’t speak to you.”

“No. No, Stian, no,” answered Loki in Icelandic. “I was never angry with any of you. I understand if you could not, or did not want to, speak. I do not love you any less for it.”

Stian looked down, and patted Freya’s shoulder repeatedly until she crouched and let him slip to his feet. Then he put his mouth next to Loki’s ear and whispered, “Þakka þér fyrir.” 

His voice was soft and melodic. “Thank  _ you _ ,” answered Loki. “You have taught me so much.”

“I… Loki, I’m so sorry for all we put you through.” Frey looked at Freya, and shook his head. “We never meant for you to get this hurt. Never. And we understand if you don’t trust us, but we were your friends. That much was never fake. We still are, if you’ll forgive us. If you don’t, that’s okay. We understand. But we hope that you will. When you’re ready, we’ll tell you everything, with detail. If you want to hear it. If you want to listen to us.”

“I do.” Nodding, Loki smiled at them faintly. 

“Hey!” protested Tony. “Don’t go around stealing his ‘I do’, dude. That’s reserved for me when I formally propose to him.”

“What?” Startled, Loki turned around to stare at Tony in horror. “You’re going to what?”

“Shush, you weren’t supposed to know.” Tony’s face reddened. “And anyways I’m not going to do it when you’re on the mend, and all your family is around, because that’s shabby and awkward. So please pretend you didn’t hear that.”

“You’re going to what?” said Loki again, mouth dry. “Tony—”

“Next in line!” called Tony quickly, avoiding Loki’s eyes. “Thor, mister Odin, Natasha, whoever. Just get over here, because the shame’s going to kill me.”

Thor and Jane helped Odin through the crowd to Loki’s side, and both Allföðr men tried to blink back tears unsuccessfully. As they carefully hugged Loki, and Odin kissed Saga’s cheek and asked how his favourite granddaughter was, Loki closed his eyes and let himself enjoy their love and concern. He let himself forget about Hela saying that he wasn’t a part of the family, and he let himself hug his brother and his father back. After them came Natasha, and Hawkeye, and Bucky, and Steve—the latter thanking him for keeping Bucky safe while said man buried his face in his hands—, and Alecksandar, and then Strange was inside the room politely but firmly throwing everyone out because Loki needed to rest. Everyone left grudgingly, and Thor wheeled Tony out despite Tony’s threats and death glares, but Strange sighed when he saw Saga hadn’t moved and allowed her to stay. 

And the room was now empty but for the two of them, and although Loki’s arms were full of needles and tubes and he couldn’t braid Saga’s hair, having her with him and the promise of a safe, happy future was enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for last chapter's load of angst, here's your reward. Also, thank you so much for all the lovely comments, I can't believe I'm lucky enough to have you guys backing me up <3 Watch out for the epilogue this Friday! I promise it's going to be worth it. (At least I will try)


	18. Epilogue

Tony’s hands were there for him when he woke, doused in sweat and panting. At first Loki didn’t recognise the man atop of him in the dark, and for a terrible second he thought it was either Mark or Olsen holding him down. But then Tony said, “Shh, Lokes, it’s over. You’re safe. You’re safe,” and the familiarity of his countertenor voice was enough to melt the nightmare around Loki.

For a few seconds none of them spoke. Tony let go of Loki’s face, resting his hands on his chest, and simply waited, giving Loki enough time to calm down completely. Loki focused on his moonlit features, painted a thousands shades of blue and grey and black, until his breath evened, and even after it did. Slowly he brought a hand up to touch the burn scar on Tony’s clavicle with his fingers.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I did not mean to wake you up.”

Tony shook his head.

“Don’t worry. I couldn’t really sleep anyway. You wanna talk about it?” He got off Loki and lay at his side facing him.

In the dark, Loki reached for Tony and laced his fingers through his. Sighing, he allowed Tony’s touch to anchor him to reality. “It was the same old thing, really. I do not want to bore you.”

“You never bore me.”

“Mark and Olsen,” Loki mumbled, looking away. “You were there, in front of me, and they began hurting you. Real bad. Worse than that,” he added, nodding towards Tony’s burn scar. “They broke you slowly, painfully, and I could not move. I could not do a thing. I could only stare, watch as they tortured you. You were in so much pain, Tony, and I could not help you. Again. I could not save you. Then they brought Saga in. And they—they made you hurt her. She was crying loud, so loud it was deafening, and you were crying too, but they would not let you stop. They would not let me stop watching.”

With a sigh, Tony brought Loki closer to trap him in a bear hug. Around them the eiderdown rustled at the movement. “I know it feels like shit, but it was only a bad dream, Lokes. It wasn’t your fault, and in the end you saved us. You bought us the time we needed, and with that you saved us. They will never hurt us again. Never.”

“I know that,” whispered Loki. “But when I close my eyes, I still hear them laughing as Saga cries, and you try to stand up for her. I still hear _her._ ”

“Good Heaven, I really hate my sister-in-law,” Tony grunted. He rubbed his cheek against Loki’s chest. “Psycho arriviste. Don’t worry, because the moment she tries to step out of jail, there’s a long queue of people dying to kick her sorry ass.”

They stayed silent for a while, listening to the quiet of the night. In the end Tony groaned and rolled atop of Loki again. With his thumb he traced the long scar that ran down the right side of Loki’s face all the way to his chin, then Loki’s eyebrows and nose and lips. Loki shivered, his heart missing a few beats, and this made Tony smile.

“Whoops,” said Tony, leaning down slightly to rub his nose against Loki’s skin. “Whoops again,” he added when Loki startled slightly. “Seems like I’ll be unable to sleep for the rest of the night. Maybe I can watch you sleep…” Then he stretched his neck to reach for Loki’s and smiled against the smooth curve of it, “..., or maybe you can have mercy of me and not sleep at all. Hm? I’m going to be lonely tonight.”

“Uh,” managed Loki, feeling his whole body light up like a bonfire. “I think I am going for mercy.”

“So you have a soft spot for loners. Interesting.” Tony’s hand slid under Loki’s T-shirt, his fingers feeling the soft skin underneath, and crawled all the way up to Loki’s chest. “How soft? Soft enough to keep me company through the night?”

Loki swallowed audibly when Tony ran his fingernails down to his navel, making him shudder. “Yeah,” he breathed, too dizzy with expectation to elaborate more. He made an effort to say, “But I thought you had an important meeting tomorrow.” Which was a considerable act of self-control, taking into account the whereabouts of Tony’s hand as he spoke.

“Fuck the meeting, honestly,” chirped Tony happily, his fingers tracing figures that made every nerve in Loki’s body stand on end. “Soft spot for loners, we said.”

Closing his eyes as all his body tickled with pleasure and anticipation, Loki nodded, not trusting his voice enough to try to speak. Tony’s lips landed on his hip. He scratched Loki’s skin softly with his teeth, then said against his hipbone, “But I’m afraid the rest of you is screaming it wants to go hard or go home. In fact, it doesn’t seem to want to go home. Instead it’s plainly going hard.”

“Tony,” groaned Loki.

“What?” asked Tony innocently, raising his head to look at him with a small, innocent smile that fooled no one. “You aren’t going to tell me you want to go home, right? Where’s the soft spot we were talking about?”

Then Loki darted forwards and pushed Tony down on the matress, which creaked as Loki fell atop of Tony. He stole a quick, passionate kiss from Tony’s off-guard lips. “Who said anything about going home?” he asked, then he leaned down again.

* * *

“Alright, all together at the count of three,” warned Tony. Saga, to his right, and Loki, to his left, looked at him. “One, two, and three.”

At the same time exactly, they brought their open hands to their mouths—Tony and Saga their right hand, Loki his left—and swallowed their pills audibly. Actually, it was Loki and Saga who swallowed their pills, Loki’s being Celexa and painkillers for the ribs, Saga’s being Haldol. Tony had come off his own medication a few days ago, but he was happy to use jelly beans as a substitute for their morning pill moment. “Family bonding moment,” he said every day. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

After a few weeks of psychological counselling, Loki had admitted to having noticed a worsening anxiety, which the psychologist told him had been aggravated by PTSD. Then she shipped him away to the psychiatrist, who immediately prescribed him the pills he had long been trying to avoid. Tony held his hand every time he had to go to the pharmacy to buy a box of Celexa.

Not only Loki had been medicated, but also the doctors had ran all due tests, evaluations, and check-ups on Saga. They put together a whole team to work with her—psychologist, psychiatrist, nurses. Said team studied her brain as thoroughly as possible before prescribing her Haldol, then sat down with Tony and Loki and explained everything there was to explain about childhood schizophrenia and how to deal with it. One of the two nurses Saga had been assigned asked sweetly, “Are you related to her, mister Stark, mister Laufeyson?”

Tony and Loki looked at each other. “Well,” said Tony, reaching for Loki’s hand, “we’re her parents, so I’d say yeah, we are. We’re still doing all the legal paperwork stuff, but you get me. Hearing delusions, you said? She does speak about the Them talking to her. If you could tell us more, please?”

Blinking, the nurse nodded and focused on her notes as she went on about Saga’s disease.

* * *

**A MONTH LATER**

“Alright, here you go.” Loki carefully placed a flower crown atop of Saga’s head. The peonies and leaves were made of fabric, attached to a hoop lined with more artificial leaves and smaller flowers and buds, the flowers being a shy shade of mauve darkening towards the ends of the petals and looking wonderful against the girl’s snow-white hair. “Princess Saga, ready for her big day. Good?”

Her smile was brighter than the sunlight bouncing off the tiles of the bathroom. Said bathroom was neat but for the sink, where Loki and Saga had spent half an hour painting small flowers and vines on her cheek, near the corner of her eye, using the several crayons and the palette that lay scattered under the tap. Staring at her own reflection in the mirror, Saga smiled and nodded.

“Yes, _pabbi_ ,” she said cheerfully in English, with the faintest hint of an accent. She was a much quicker learner than anyone could have imagined, and she was getting to grips with the language at an impressive speed. “I like how me look…” She frowned, pursing her lips as if she were to give a kiss as she thought. “I like how I look with the flowers. Is Dad going to take me to school too?”

“No, _hjartað mitt,_ he cannot. Yesterday Pepper told him that she had not been able to cancel the press conference, so right now he is trying to hold his ground against the journalists.” Loki passed an arm around Saga’s waist to hold her hand. “But he will make it in time to pick you up, you will see.”

“Yes?”

“Well, he promised, or did not he?” Loki smiled, and squeezed the girl’s hand before letting go and stretching his arms above his head. Saga giggled and reached up to tickle Loki in the armpits, jumping off the stool she had been sitting on as Loki did her make-up and running away before he could tickle her back.

When she passed the kitchen, running towards the main hall as Loki chased her, both laughing, Berglind shouted something about Nutella sandwiches. The little girl turned around on her heels, feinting Loki with impressive agility, and returned to the kitchen, her silver hair waving like a flag. Panting, Loki leaned against the doorframe and watched as Berglind, behind the marble countertop, handed Saga her pink lunchbox and patted her cheek.

“You have a nice day at school,” said the woman in Icelandic. “And afterwards, surprise afternoon.”

“Surprise?” Saga slammed her hands against the countertop twice. “What surprise?”

Reaching for a wooden spoon inside a drawer, Berglind shook her head. “The kind of surprise that stops being a surprise if I tell you about it,” she answered cleverly. “Now go, or else you’ll be late.”

Saga nodded and kissed Berglind’s wrinkled cheek before walking up to Loki, taking his hand when it was within reach. She waved at Berglind goodbye, then grabbed her backpack when Heimdall offered it to her. He had dark bags under his eyes, which for once weren’t due to a Netflix all-nighter.

“Be great today, mistress,” he told Saga. “Flower power is on your side.”

“Take a nap, Heimdall,” suggested Loki as the man opened the door for them. “Long one.”

“You bet I will,” Heimdall grunted. “I am getting too old to stay up late making unicorn garlands. I got glitter in places where there should not be any glitter at all.”

“Come on, it will be worth it. Just think about all the sweets you can sneak when the children are not looking.”

As he closed the door behind them, Heimdall chuckled. Loki and Saga went down the few steps that led to the front yard and exited the property, Saga humming quietly as they headed for school. It was a ten-minute walk from their house, down a quiet street of neat gardens and friendly neighbours, at whom Saga waved enthusiastically. All of a sudden she started singing a crooked version of Smashmouth’s _All Star,_ jumping every two steps. Loki took his phone out of his pocket, singing with her in a lower voice, and held it as far from them as he could, recording their street performance.

“You will send it to Dad?” Saga asked after she screamed the last notes. Loki still hadn’t stopped recording, so he stopped, crouching besides her, and adjusted the angle so that they would both be onscreen.

“Absolutely. Anything you want to tell him?” He turned towards Saga.

She grinned and nodded exaggeratedly. “Yes. Dad, you have to finish with the journalists soon so you can come pick me up today! _Pabbi_ said you are having your ground…” She frowned, giving it a thought. “Or something similar. But you come pick me up today, yes?”

Loki laughed. “Holding his ground. Anything else you want to say to Dad?”

“Yes!” Pressing both hands against her mouth, her elbows sticking out at either side of her head, she smacked loudly her palms as she flew a kiss towards the camera. “Love you, Dad!”

Before he finished the video, Loki kissed her cheek, careful not to mess up the flowers he had so carefully drawn in the bathroom, and looked at the camera again. When he grinned, the long scar that ran down the right side of his face writhed. “You heard her, Tony, you are on picking up duty today.” Then he stopped the video, and sent it to him.

“Special day, Saga?” When they got to the school, Loki walked Saga to the door of her classroom. Her head teacher, Miss Bee, greeted them with a warm smile. “Well then, we’ll do something funny today. Morning, Mister Laufeyson.”

“Morning, Miss Bee.” Loki bent down so that Saga could hug his neck and whisper a quick ‘goodbye’ before entering the classroom. “Is everything good?”

“Of course,” she answered. “She’s a very fast learner, and soon she will be able to take regular courses. Out of all the children, she’s been the fastest to adapt.”

Pleased to hear that, Loki nodded. “Very well. Thank you for everything you have done for her, Miss Bee. We feared she would have it a little rough integrating, but… Not only is she not afraid of the school anymore. She genuinely likes it now.”

“Happy to hear that,” said Miss Bee, and when Saga tugged at her plaid skirt, she waved at Loki before tending to the girl. Loki’s gaze lingered on Saga for another second, and then he turned around and headed towards the exit. His phone buzzed on his pocket, and at the same time, an elderly couple who lived in their street, and who were dropping their grandchildren at their classroom, greeted him. Loki smiled and engaged on a polite small talk for a few minutes. When he finally left the building, he checked his phone. Heimdall had sent him a selfie, surrounded by blinding shades of pink and purple and unicorns everywhere. _Too much unicorn magic for me alone, SEND HELP SIR_ , he had typed.

 _On my way,_ answered Loki. _Njordsens and Jane drop by at twelve. Nat and Steve at half-past one.  
_

_If I die from all this rainbow power thing, I will kill you, sir_

_Love you, Heimdall. Think about the new episodes of Sense8 they are airing next week_

_IT’S NO USE IF I’M NOT ALIVE TO WATCH THEM, SIR_

Loki actually laughed out loud, sending Heimdall kiss emojis before putting the phone away. He ran a hand through his hair, unable to help a grimace when he touched the small patch of skin where there was no hair growing yet. Only a slightly swollen scar. As his remaining hair wasn’t long enough to cover it with some smart combing yet, he usually covered it with hoodies or beanies, but today he had forgotten to wear either. He took a deep breath, and as the world faltered below him, he mentally thought of five places he would like to visit, five ice-cream flavours, five farm animals, five famous opera singers, until he felt safe and in control of the situation again. Then he allowed himself a few seconds of enjoying the simplicity of the sunlight on his face, the birds chirping above his head, and the children playing behind him in the school playground, before getting moving again to go help Heimdall.

He knew he wasn’t okay. But he was slowly learning how to be.

* * *

“What led you to developing this new security software?” asked a particularly irritant journalist. There wasn’t a single thing Tony liked in him, from his ridiculous hipster glasses to his too-careful shave. But that wasn’t a valid reason not to answer a question from the CNN, so Tony put on his best smile.

“Simple: the need for a new security software.” He gestured with his hands as he spoke, cameras flashing as they took pictures. “Every day hackers and other beautiful digital criminals grow smarter and stronger. They develop impressive spy softwares, design incredible ways to get around fireworks and steal what interests them. Viruses are more difficult to detect, and quicker to spread. Imagine what this means for our security. It’s only a matter of time before celebrity leakouts turn into national secret leakouts, or a missile goes commando, if the wrong people hire the right techies. Or it was, anyway, with the security softwares available before. Now, StarkSafe makes sure that no one will lay a single finger on your information. Nothing can get in, or get out, without the user’s explicit permission. Only the StarkSafe IA, ALOYSIUS, can decrypt the archives once they have been coded.”

“So you’re saying you developed it to make up for the other available softwares’ lacks?”

Tony’s smile tightened, and for a second he daydreamed about punching those ugly glasses off the guy’s face. “No,” he said, a little tense already. “I developed it to offer a fireproof security to whoever has something valuable enough to need it.”

There was some excited chatter among the journalists in the room. Tony glanced at Pepper, growing slightly desperate with each passing moment. Normally he could handle press conferences without breaking a sweat, but today he wasn’t on the mood. His mind was elsewhere. And the CNN man with the hipster glasses was an idiot. Pepper offered him an apologetic smile from her corner of the room.

“Mister Stark,” called another journalist, this time a gingerhead with the longest eyelashes Tony had seen in his life. “Rumour has it that the accident you and mister Laufeyson suffered two months ago has to do with your withdrawal from the media. Is that true?”

“Obviously,” Tony said tightly.

“Some say that the official version you gave doesn’t really click. Do you have any comments on that?”

Supressing a sigh, Tony closed his eyes for a moment. The press conference had been arranged so that he could present his new security software to the world. It was a business thing from head to toes. Yet the gutter press hadn’t missed the opportunity to prey on what had happened to Loki and him.

“We have already explained what happened.” Tony gave her a death glare. “On our way out of a restaurant, a group of homophobes saw us holding hands and gave us a good beating. It was painful, it was what happened, and it was not supposed to be brought up today.”

That was the version Fury had told them to give the press. Although the main head of Hydra had been cut off, many others remained still active, so everyone had agreed on not saying a word about it, for the sake of the mission and for their own. It would have been preferable not to say a thing, but the media had obviously noticed Loki’s absence, then Tony’s. Then they had reappeared in a hospital, Loki having undergone a brain surgery, and the world had gone crazy, demanding an explanation for their injuries and sudden reappearance. S.H.I.E.L.D. had provided all the false evidence needed to support their story, and when interviewed, all the hospital staff—including the renowned doctor Stephen Strange—had backed it up as well. But the tabloids were thirsty for gossip, and they could smell a juicy story from afar, even when they were being fed a perfectly plausible one that was gruesome enough.

“Mister Stark, word spread that your partner, Loki Laufeyson, is closing the Icelandic orphanage his father Odin passed on to him. Is that true?”

So it was going to be gossip. “That decision is Loki’s, and Loki’s only,” he said. “And it’s consequently his right to decide whether he speaks about it or not. But it is true that all the orphans have been brought to the States, to receive an education of high quality with the scholarships the Valhalla foundation has provided them with. Now, any more chitchat? Because I’m late to my daughter’s tenth birthday party.”

Pepper looked at him wide-eyed, but he dismissed her concern with a flutter of his hand. They wanted something tasty? Let them eat cake.

“Daughter?” said someone in the front row, sounding astounded.

“Mister Stark! Mister Stark!” shouted some others. Hipster Glasses rose his voice above the frantic callings and said, “Mister Stark, then you have adopted a girl?”

“Yes,” said Tony, smiling proudly as he thought of Saga. “My partner and I have adopted a beautiful girl who’s turning ten years of age today. Saga Lokidóttir.”

“Holy shit,” muttered the man. “ _This_ is sensationalist.”

“So you have adopted a child right after turning twenty,” said another reporter. It wasn’t a question, but Tony answered anyways.

“Yeah. What, did you expect us to do so in our mid-fourties? So we’d have to deal with a pubescent teenager in our venerable sixties? Ugh, no.” He shook his head. “If we have made this decision, it’s because we have talked it through and agreed that this is something we want to do, and a child we want to take in. We are ready—no, we are _eager_ —to give this girl not only a home, but also a family that adores her, and unconditional support and love.”

“Then,” said a third one, wearing a purple jacket “you don’t think that a child needs a father, and a mother? After all, the gay lifestyle logically leaves out the possibility of having children.”

The whole room fell silent at the bold question. Tony went stiff immediately, and Pepper stepped forwards. “Alright, the conference is over,” she began to say, but Tony held a hand up.

“First of all,” Tony said slowly, “get your facts straight, no pun intended. I’m not homosexual, I’m bisexual. Second of all, what a child needs is love, and people who will be something they can call home. From the second Saga met my partner, she decided she belonged with him, because she found the support and acceptance her biological—and straight, by the way—parents had denied her. When he introduced me to her, and explained that we were together, she called me ‘dad’ the way she did with Loki with the most naturality, even before we asked her if she wanted to be part of our family. If you ask me, it’s not heterosexual role models what she needs. It’s good people ready to raise her up and stand by her side no matter what, and that’s what we are to her.” Tony adjusted his bowtie, trying to calm down. “Third and last, that’s all for today. Thanks for coming, and please, whoever hired the guy with the purple jacket: never send him near me again.”

Then he turned off the microphone and left the room, as Pepper stared at him with a mix of horror and admiration, heading for his car.

* * *

 

“Dad!” screamed Saga in delight, running towards Tony. He smiled when the girl jumped into his open arms, and spun around. “You came!”

“Of course I did,” said Tony with mock offence. “Who do you think I am?”

“How was your day, _hjartað mitt_?” asked Loki. When Tony lowered her to the floor, the girl grabbed one hand from each of them, and smiled happily. “Did you do anything special?”

“Yes!” she squealed. “Miss Bee and my friends sang to me, and then we played games in P.E. and did not run. Because it was my birthday, and I didn’t want to run,” she added, proud to have saved her classmates from such a terrible fate. “ _Pabbi_ , Dad, why people look at us?”

Neither of them needed to turn around to know that every parent, child, and teacher in the school was staring at them. Most probably there were journalists around as well, after Tony’s declarations on their recent adoption. But it wasn’t important if they didn’t make it important. With Saga things worked that way. So Tony shrugged. “Nothing to worry about, sweetheart. People can’t believe that they have been lucky enough to see the one and only Princess Saga, looking so pretty with her flower crown.”

Saga smiled and buried her face in Tony’s side. As he squeezed her hand, Tony looked at Loki. “I might or might not have been a smartmouth with the press today,” he admitted in a lower voice. “Sorry.”

“It is on the news, and has gone viral too,” Loki informed him. “Heimdall played it about thirty times on YouTube. Can I give you my humble opinion?”

“Sorry that I didn’t ask you first,” repeated Tony, running his free hand through his spiky hair, “but this man got me really worked up. Anyway, if you want to—”

Loki shook his head and laughed, then leaned forward to peck Tony on the lips. “You kicked a number of asses,” he said when he pulled away. All around them were bewildered parents, some turning away in disgust, some others blinking in confusion. “Seems like I am starting to have a soft spot for smartmouths, too.”

“Mum,” said a little boy who was nearby, and whose mother was staring at them openmouthed. “So boys can kiss boys?”

“Yes,” answered Saga before the stunned parent could snap out of it. “My parents do it all the time, and they are very happy.”

This time it was Tony and Loki who stared at them with their mouth hanging wide open, before Tony bit her lower lip to muffle a burst of laughter, pressing his palm against his forehead. Loki crouched besides Saga and kissed her cheek.

“What, _pabbi_?” she asked, curious.

“Nothing,” said Loki. “You are incredible, Saga.”

“Princess Saga,” she reminded him.

“Absolutely,” interjected Tony. “There’s no denying that you’re sass royalty, girl.”

* * *

“Surprise!” shouted everyone when Saga turned on the lights. They were all scattered across the room, holding balloons and wearing pink party hats. Thor’s was on his forehead, so he looked like a unicorned man. Jane started laughing like a maniac the moment she saw him. Even Odin was wearing one. Of course, they were all covered in glitter. Bucky’s nice white shirt wasn’t going to survive the day—not when there were around thirty children ready to stain it with cake, drinks, and whatever they found.

Heimdall, Loki, Berglind, the Njordsens, Natasha, Jane, and Steve Rogers had all been working elbow to elbow all the day to get everything ready. They had decorated Tony and Loki’s basement with the unicorn garlands Heimdall had spent all night making, balloons Steve, Natasha and Freya had spent hours blowing up until they were on the verge of fainting, cupcakes and sandwiches Loki and Jane had made, and finger food Frey had bought and displayed in bowls and plates. Berglind had pulled off an impressive cake shaped like a unicorn head, having made a miracle with fondant and a wooden stick to craft the horn and have it standing in place, which stood in the centre of the table they had set up in one side of the room. All over the place were the balloons and life-size cardboard unicorns, Hello Kitty figures, and ponies. The sliding glass door that took up one entire wall was open, and led into the garden. It had been, too, transformed into a small patch of fantasy, with giant pink candy canes sprouting from the grass, garlands hanging from the trees, two bouncy castles, and a lot of room to play football or hide-and-seek or tag or whatever the children wanted.

Of course, Saga shrieked when she saw it all, and threw herself at Odin. Her grandfather raised her above his head, still strong and muscular, then dropped her only to grab her again at the height of his chest and pull her into a tight hug. She squealed in delight, then protested until he left her on the floor and immediately clung like a koala to Thor. When Bucky laughed and said, “Oh, so I get nothing?, not even a hello?”, she stuck her tongue out and said, “Uncle Thor first, then uncle Bucky.”

“Sorry, Bucky, man. She’s got her priorities in order.”

“The betrayal, dude, it hurts.” Bucky shook his head, and Steve patted his shoulder compasively. “I think I might cry very manly.”

In all response, Thor offered him Kleenex.

Soon, after Saga had greeted everyone including the thirty children, and after the mandatory tuneless ‘Happy Birthday’, the kids ran off to the garden to play while the grown-ups plundered the food on the table.

“How’s Stian doing?” Loki asked Freya. The latter nodded enthusiastically.

“Very well, actually! He and Tyra are adapting perfectly to life with us. Next year I think they might be ready for school. Stian still has nightmares, but now he tells us about them. Now we can help him better.”

“Poor kids went through hell,” added Frey. “Apparently their parents were junkies, and they contracted very serious debts with the wrong people. We did some research. One night, Stian couldn’t sleep, so he went downstairs to his parents. That’s when some thugs broke into the house and finished their parents off. He watched it all from the stairs, and then ran upstairs to Tyra, to hide with her in case the men went upstairs looking for them. When they were sure those enforcers were gone, they fled their house. Stian slipped in a puddle of blood and dragged Tyra down with him, but neither wanted to stay and shower. That’s why they went to Berglind covered in blood.”

“Oh, my God,” exclaimed Jane, who had seated with them. She reached for Freya’s hand.

“Jesus Christ,” whispered Loki, shaking his head. “I just… I am so happy that they found you. Sometimes I thought I would never be able to reach them. But you did, thankfully.”

“Yeah, about that…” Freya rubbed her nape, and looked at her twin, blushing. “We wanted to talk to you about legal adoption. No more foster parenthood. Adoption.”

“More parents!” Hawkeye sat down between Freya and Loki, a beer in hand. “You’re becoming a plague.”

“You yourself have three children, Barton,” pointed out Steve, taking up the last empty chair. Hawkeye shrugged.

“Yeah, well, so what. Fight me, Rogers.”

Tony was with Frey, Thor, and Natasha outside, playing games with the children, but he came inside to have a drink. On his way to the table, he kissed Loki’s temple, and on his way back outside, he leaned down to kiss him on the mouth. Their friends all cheered, and Odin himself, who was dragging a chair for himself towards the group of seated grown-ups, couldn’t help a small smile. Loki blinked and felt like he had been taken back in time. He felt like the completely lost teenager who didn’t know the first thing about Physics again, and who was absolutely unaware that fate was going to turn his world upside down soon enough. Sometimes he thought about what might have been if he had never met Tony, of if Odin and Frigga had never adopted him.

But then he looked around, feeling the ghost of Tony’s kisses on his mouth and the warmth of Saga’s smiles in his heart, and realised there was no point in thinking about that. Because he had everything he could have ever wished for, everything he had fought for, and there was nothing that could take it away from him anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dude, I can't believe this is over. I mean, I wrote the very first chapter, Gravitational Forces, about a year ago for a friend. And now it's 18 chapters long, it's an around 80k little monster, and it's over. What. Anyways, HUGE, MASSIVE KUDOS to everything who has read 'The Physics Of Falling (In Love)' <3 You are amazing. Specially those who have stuck with it since the very beginning, through thick and thin, and have suffered every week because oh the cliffhangers. Even if this wasn't a story I planned at all, it was still an incredible journey, and I'm so blessed to have shared it with you guys.
> 
> Hopefully I'll be writing something new soon (I'm working on a project belonging in the All For The Game fandom, ha), so expect to hear from me again! :)


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